Crystal Clear
by SierraSilver
Summary: Three years after losing his attorney's badge, Phoenix Wright is confronted with something he'd never expected: an apprentice. But as he tries to put the past behind him and overcome his depression, is something going on behind the scenes? Please review!
1. Prologue

Author's Notes: I will start off by saying that this should have been the very first fanfic I posted. I got the idea a little over a year ago, and it's changed a little since then, though the basic plot is the same. I just got distracted for a year. So now I'm posting it on the one-year mark since I posted my first fanfic on . I will try to post every week on Tuesday, so if I do not, feel free to yell at me. I have written up to Chapter 5 so far, and the chapters will get longer. Much longer. Please read and review.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used in this fanfiction. Except for the OCs, I suppose…

_

* * *

_

_Impact._

_A silver blade slicing through air. The handle was familiar…distinctive…she could feel each fingerprint upon the plastic…all hers. It was good to be holding it again, to have the piece of her arm back where it belonged. _

_But she was tense. Angry. Repeating this identical motion as she had before, her very soul filling with the hatred of the moment. It wasn't hard to do. The knife cut so easily...slashing against skin until ruby red blood fell in waves to the ground. The blood was fuel. The screams were fuel. Everything was…perfect._

_She had submitted every last trace of sense away to this feeling. Disregarding her conscience, her body took over. She couldn't stop even if she had wanted to._

_Pain._

_Not a physical pain, an emotional one. She was losing the anger to grief, hopelessness, breaking down until there was nothing left in her. There were no more slashes left in the knife. _

_It was over. A body slumped to the ground and she ran, from the room and the house, falling into the street while the lamplight washed over her. It had happened again. She had lost control._

_Car headlights struck her, and she stumbled blindly to the curb. She needed to leave…she couldn't stand to be so close to the body. _

_Hard footsteps on the pavement and the gasping for air. She would run…run until there was nothing more to break free of. She would go back to the calm, where it was safe. _

_She would go back to the life she never had._


	2. Now Or Never

Chapter 1- This turned out much shorter than I would have liked it to be…oh well. They'll be longer. Please read and review.

Disclaimer: I'm going to say this again. I. Don't. Own. The. Characters. (Or the 'I'm going to say this again' thing, which I just swiped from Edgeworth.)

* * *

He was sick with a cold on the first day she called. Her voice was obscured by static, and the buzz of the medicine took away what little was left. He hung up.

--

On the second day she called, Trucy picked up the phone, said 'uh-huh' several times, and then handed the receiver to him. She was a defense attorney. She had just gotten out of law school. The connection died.

--

No one was home on the third day, and there was a message on the answering machine. Her name was Kasanov. Mirabel Kasanov. She wanted to work at the Wright and Co. Offices, and wondered if he would offer her a position.

--

He sat there for a long time, listening to the message. He had tried to stay away from court, tried to avoid the subject. He still…he still talked to them…perhaps **at** them…but not about the trial. Maya steered clear of the words 'defense attorney', and Edgeworth…he seemed to have his own life to deal with. He couldn't be bothered with another.

But…now this woman had come and she wanted a job. A 'position at the Wright and Co. Law Offices', which hadn't practiced law in three years. She wanted to work at Mia's old desk with the potted plant and the shelves full of heavy, unreadable books. She wanted him to teach her what he knew.

He called Maya.

"…Nick…Of course you should give her a job." She sounded so certain about it, like she didn't understand how he could possibly say no.

"But…I'm not a lawyer…I don't…I can't practice law anymore."

"You're not the one who's going to be practicing law. She is. Just…give her a chance."

"It's not that simple. I-"

"Nick! You've been…depressed for the past three years! You need to get over it!"

"M-Maya?" Was she really saying this to him?

"-And Pearly's off at school, and Mr. Edgeworth is always completely silent, and you! You're always…moping! I…I feel like I can't talk to you anymore…" Her voice trailed off.

"You can talk to me…"

"No, I can't. You…you need to change something. You're just…wallowing right now."

"Maya, I-"

"Take her. Teach her like my sister taught you. I can't…I can't try to cheer you up anymore. Please, Nick. Please just take her."

--

He was having trouble breathing.

Maya was angry at him. Maya had told him that he was wallowing, that he needed to get over it. She was tired of cheering him up.

He didn't fall asleep.

--

In the morning he called Edgeworth. They hadn't had a real conversation in years, and probably weren't about to have one now.

"…It's your decision, Wright."

"You can't even give me an opinion?"

"I don't have an opinion."

"Well…then…that's…"

"Is there something else that you wanted to ask me?"

"Do you think…that I'm wallowing? Or that I need to 'get over it'?"

It took him a minute to realize that the phone had been hung up. No one wanted to talk to him.

--

He couldn't decide. No, it was more than that…he couldn't think. He couldn't think of what it would be like to wake up at seven o'clock every morning and come into the cluttered office to find another person working there. He couldn't think of what it would be like to see another crime scene, to help someone else investigate as someone had helped him long ago. He couldn't think of what it would be like to stand in the courtroom again, this time the defense 'aid' instead of the defense attorney.

He couldn't think of not being the 'star' anymore.

Maybe he had never thought of it that way, but he had been the 'star'. He had been the new blood which had somehow risen all the way to the top. He had been the one to defeat undefeatable prosecutors, the one to expose the truth when the rest of the world was drowning in lies. He had been Phoenix Wright, Ace Attorney.

And then he had fallen. Hard and fast, losing everything he'd ever had before.

And so it was someone else's turn. Someone else got to be the 'star'.

But could he possibly help them get there? Was he even capable of such a feat?

He couldn't decide.

--

Another message.

"Mr. Wright? This is Mirabel Kasanov. I-"

"…yes…?"

"Is this Mr. Wright?"

"…speaking."

"Do you think you could open the door?"

He was silent.

"…Mr. Wright?"

"Y-Yes…One moment…" She wasn't even giving him time to decide. It was now…

Now or never.

He opened the door.


	3. Insignificant

There was no time for first impressions.

He was wearing his usual, carelessly-thrown together ensemble, and she had already walked in and opened her briefcase before he could blink.

"Here." She thrust papers in his face. "Proof I am who I say I am."

He wasn't looking at the papers. He was watching her. The person who had walked in as though she already worked there. Who was proceeding to rifle through the clutter on his desk until she found what she was looking for.

"I assume you have something for me to sign?" she asked, not facing him. Her hair was a very pale shade of blonde, spun into tight curls.

"W-well… you see…"

"Fine. I brought spares."

What was Maya thinking? He couldn't deal with getting up on time, much less this girl.

"Sign here. Initial there. Mail it to this place and you'll get free business cards."

If he had to say one good thing about her, it would be that she wasted no time.

"Listen…I'm not so great at this…I haven't even stood in court for thre-"

"If I had wanted to work somewhere else, I would have gone somewhere else. I don't really care about your inability to be a teacher."

That seemed to settle the matter.

--

She spent the first hour sorting. There was no noise but the sound of paper sliding. He sat and watched, unsure of what to say.

After one hour, twelve minutes, forty-three seconds, Trucy Wright opened the door.

"I'm hom-" She blinked at the stranger. Once. Twice. Then a smile. "Miss Kasanov, right?"

Kasanov stared at her.

"I remember you called before. To talk to Daddy…"

Silence.

"You have a daughter." She stated this less like a question, and more like the fact it was.

"Well…that is…" He hesitated. "Yes."

"Interesting."

She had nothing more to say. Trucy did.

"So you're a defense attorney? Can I see your badge?"

It occurred then to Phoenix that he had never asked Trucy for an opinion. He had called the girl who wanted him to get over it and the man who had no opinions, but he hadn't asked the main point of his life what she thought. How could he have missed that?

"It's…shiny." Trucy tilted the scrap of metal toward the light.

"It's new. Don't break it."

He started to wonder if Kasanov didn't care too much for kids.

"So…what do you do as a defense attorney?" Trucy was trying. Exceptionally hard. Then again, she always was.

"I listen to people who say they didn't do it. Then I make other people listen."

She had put it in a strange way. Edgeworth would have said that she still had a lot to learn.

But he wasn't Edgeworth.

"That's right. You just have to…to believe in your client…"

Mia was so much better than him at this. She could have already had this girl discussing courtroom strategies and how not to fall head first into a prosecutor's trap.

He wasn't Mia either.

"So…would you like something to drink, Miss Kasanov?" He had to face the fact that he was a failure at making conversation.

"I don't care to spill liquids on important papers, Mr. Wright."

That was the end of that.

--

He spent the better portion of the evening staring at the telephone, unsure of who to call. Kasanov had left at around seven-thirty, and Trucy was preoccupied with an important project, presumably due the next day.

There was no one to talk to. Maya was no doubt still angry, and he didn't think Edgeworth would have any interest in the affairs of the Wright and Co. Law Offices. He supposed he could always call Franziska, but they hadn't spoken in three years…and if he remembered correctly, she had never exactly been his best friend.

He was alone. And the only one he could blame was himself.

He didn't sleep that night.

--

At seven, there was a loud rapping sound on the door. There was no doorbell. Whoever it was **really** wanted in.

"Oh…Miss Kasanov…I didn't expect you until lat-"

She had already begun working.

"Is there anything I can do to hel-"

A piece of paper was suddenly thrust into his hands. It was a checklist of sorts, most of which involved sorting or cleaning some area of the room.

"…Is this all?" It was meant to be a joke, but came out instead like a real question.

"…Pay particular attention to the last task."

Phoenix looked down.

**_Find a case._**

He supposed it was kind of important.

They worked in silence for an hour or so, unable to find some sort of mutual interest between them. He simply did what she had requested, and wondered where he'd be able to find a case in the very near future. Could he just…call the police department? And what-

He looked up to see that Kasanov was smirking.

"…You actually fell through a burning bridge?" She said it as though it was completely insane. To her, it probably was.

"You're reading my case files?"

She nodded.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Each and every case had been an experience for him, like something pushing him closer and closer to his destiny. His destiny hadn't turned out so great.

And so he'd left the files closed for three years, unable to reminisce. Not about the people he'd left behind.

And that was when he remembered.

He DID have a way to find a case.

--

"Mr. Wright!"

"Sorry for stopping by with no notice, Detective…see, I just-"

"Listen here, pal. I know other people are saying you did it. You forged that evidence. But they don't know what they're talking about." He paused to look around. "I know you would never do something like that. So you don't have to explain anything to me, pal."

"Thanks…That really means a lot."

The police department was as busy as he remembered, if not more so. He felt distant from it. This wasn't part of his world anymore…and neither was Detective Gumshoe. Three years had made him look a bit more responsible and even put a ring on his finger. Maggey, no doubt.

"So, Mr. Wright. What can I help you with?"

"Actually…I need a case…"

"What?" He couldn't tell whether the detective was surprised, or hadn't heard him.

"See…I just got a new addition to the Wright and Co. offices...and she made this checklist and-"

"A new defense attorney? Are you training her, pal?"

"Yeah…I guess." That was a stretch of the truth.

"Well! I guess I've got myself a new job! I'll get you a case, Mr. Wright, if it's the last thing I do!"

The detective marched off triumphantly, to the tune of the investigators' theme song.

That was one more check, at least.

He almost fell over on the way out. This was because he had crashed into someone.

"Watch where you're going, Wright."

Edgeworth.

"Sorry…I'll just…go now and-"

"What are you doing in the Police Department?"

"I…well…I got…that new defense attorney and-"

"I seem to remember you mentioning that a few days ago…Let me guess, you're here to find a case?"

"Y-yeah." Phoenix felt silly for feeling silly about this. How was it possible for someone to make you feel so insignificant? Was it because he had lost his badge? Or had Edgeworth always been so…above him?

"I'll see you in court, Wright."

And with that, Edgeworth disappeared into the crowd. Phoenix could only presume that 'see you in court' was referring to 'that new defense attorney' and her upcoming trial.

He wished it was still referring to him.


	4. Giving Up

If you are reading this, PLEASE review it! I want to know what your thoughts are!

Disclaimer applies.

* * *

Days passed and the earth turned. He had nothing to say about it.

"I'll see you in court, Wright."

The former defense attorney rushed hurriedly away, as though he had somewhere important to be. Or as though it was important that he not be here.

It probably was.

The prosecutor walked farther into the police department, devoid of emotion.

"Mr. Edgeworth!"

The detective had spotted him. He moved a little faster.

"Mr. Edgeworth, did you hear? Mr. Wright's got himself a new apprentice!"

Why did everyone feel the need to shout at him? He wasn't in a fog anymore. He could understand just fine.

"Yes. I heard."

"Isn't it great? Now it'll be like he's back in court or someth-"

"Even if he somehow regained his attorney's badge, I have no desire to face him."

He always said what he thought now. Editing was time-consuming and pointless.

"You mean-"

"I'm not as confident in him as you seem to be, Detective."

With that, he walked away. Continuation of this conversation was simply unnecessary.

* * *

He wished he could be as certain as the detective. To trust someone so unconditionally that no matter what accusations were filed against them, you would still believe that they were innocent. Wright had believed in him when he had been charged with murder. The man he'd thought was his enemy had defended him in a near impossible case.

He hadn't returned the favor. He had stopped believing. Turned cold and unresponsive whenever the phone rang.

He had never been good at trusting people. The idea that he could rely on someone completely seemed risky, if not ridiculous. It wasn't that he was above them…it was that he wasn't in the same world as them. Things were different for him.

He had only ever trusted a few people. His father had been one of them. But…his father was dead, and had been for twenty years, so he supposed he couldn't count that anymore.

And he had trusted Wright. Until that day, three years and three weeks ago. It was frightening how he remembered exactly. The detective had called him, actually, and thus followed a conversation of such confusion that he actually left to go investigate for himself. What he found shocked him, but he could see no way around its being true. The defense attorney had forged evidence and used it in court.

And so he lost his trust in Wright.

The nightmares came three weeks and one day later. It was something to horrible for words, something that lingered on the edge of his consciousness when he awoke, but the images were too blurry to mean anything. He could never remember what had taken place, only that it was killing him inside.

He was pretty sure he was already dead.

--

"Did you find a case?" She asked the moment Phoenix stepped through the door.

He shook his head.

Kasanov looked disappointed.

"Well…" He tried to think of something to say, "Did you finish sorting everything?"

"The important cases are here. I filed everything else away." There was a small stack of folders on the edge of the desk.

Had his life really only amounted to a few significant trials?

"There were a lot of close calls." She fingered a paperweight.

"That's…that's what being an attorney is about, really…holding on until the end," he stammered.

"Interesting…" Kasanov opened an 'important case', presumably to reread.

Phoenix decided he couldn't put it off any longer. He needed to know his apprentice as more than just a law school graduate.

"What made you decide to be an attorney?" He blurted thoughtlessly. The first thing that had come to him.

She was silent for a moment. "When it isn't your fault…but no one will listen."

"And…?"

"I hate that."

To tell the truth, it sounded a bit like the reason **he **had become an attorney. They had something in common after all. How reassuring.

"So…why did you pick me?" Maybe that was the wrong way to phrase it…but Kasanov showed no signs of caring. It looked instead like she was trying to remember something.

"When I was in law school...I looked at a lot of newspaper clippings about defense attorneys. Your name kept coming up…again and again…"

"So you came here?"

"I wanted to see who you really were. And especially…why you lost your badge." She looked up at him as she said this, her eyes dark, **cold** almost. Frightening.

Phoenix avoided her gaze.

* * *

He had refused to talk to Maya about it. At least, what had really happened. She had seen him enter depression, casting away anything and everything that reminded him of his past. But…she had stayed. She had stayed by his side through his tears and pain, she had never faded away like…like the other people he knew.

But now she was gone. She couldn't deal with the weight of his problems anymore, and he didn't blame her. It simply wasn't her responsibility, and he was being unfair by making her support him.

He had to tell Maya. There was simply no way around it. Maya should have been the very first person he had talked to…but he had put it off. It was too difficult…and even if he could mask the pain, how could he ever find the words?

The only thing he could do was tell Kasanov first. It felt out-of-place, since they had only met the day before, but…in some ways, he owed it to **her **as well. And he couldn't keep hiding it from people forever.

But…Kasanov might not understand. She might not believe him. He supposed he hadn't told Maya for the same reason. He didn't trust her to trust him.

But Kasanov had come to **him, **requested **him **when there were a zillion other better attorneys. She must have…believed…trusted him enough to do that.

So he would tell her. He only wished he had gotten the nerve to tell Maya first.

"I made a stupid mistake." He spoke, five minutes later.

She nodded at him, the topic understood without explanation. He continued.

"Someone had set a trap for me…and I fell in it. I didn't think hard enough."

The words sounded strange when he spoke them. He was forcing his way through anger and self-hatred, pain, and most of all, sadness.

He hoped Kasanov was paying attention.

"I don't know who…I mean, I might, but…they wanted me to disappear. And I just played along. I let him call that witness…I watched him take me down…forever."

"You didn't try to stop him?"

"There was nothing I could do. And…I probably deserved whatever I got. The evidence I presented…was forged."

"So you gave up?"

She had spoken it so plainly, so bluntly, that he wondered if she was right. No…not wondered, he **knew **she was right. He had seen no possible escape route and had therefore surrendered to the opposing forces. He hadn't fought as hard as he could. Phoenix Wright, the attorney famous for always managing to turn things around, had given in without trying every possible option.

Had he known this all along?

"W-well…I…"

"Did you give up?"

"Y-yeah…I guess…I guess I did."

She stared into his eyes, as though trying to understand what she was seeing. He couldn't look away.

"That's unfortunate."

The conversation was over. Feelings of irresolution hung about like dark clouds over a sunny day. He was being slowly suffocated, bound into silence.

Trucy opened the door.

"Daddy, guess what! My project won-" She stopped dead at the look on his face. But he couldn't quite speak.

"Your project won **what**?" Kasanov spoke for him.

"Huh?" Trucy glanced at her father's apprentice before deciding to continue, "Well…we had a contest for which toothpick bridge could hold the most weight…and mine won!"

"Good job, Trucy." He found that he could talk again, and tried to smile back at Trucy.

Kasanov suddenly stood up.

"I just remembered…I have an appointment now and I have to leave." She was suddenly in a rush. "I'll be back in an hour."

He had never seen anyone in such a hurry before. The door slammed shut.

"Well…"

"My teacher gave me a lollipop…but then I lost it…"

For some reason, neither of them could continue the conversation. They were both still staring at the door.

Wondering.

--

An hour passed, and she drifted quietly in.

"You're back."

"I said I would be."

She was reading a very thick textbook that he was pretty sure he had never even opened. It looked less like a book and more like a good murder weapon.

"What is that?" Something about it made him curious.

"Progression of courtroom procedure from ancient civilization to modern times."

"Nevermind."

Smoke drifted in from the kitchen. Slowly, until the room was covered in haze.

"Mr. Wright?"

"Yes…?"

"Burning to death in a fire just doesn't seem very fun to me."

He got up and walked to the source, coughing.

"Trucy?"

"Hi…Daddy…" She sounded discouraged, and was surrounded by a large black cloud.

"Are you cooking something?"

"Macaroni and Cheese."

"Is it not working out so well?"

"Yep."

"Maybe you should try something different?"

"Yep."

The phone rang.  
"The Law Offices of Wright and Co…Phoenix Wright speaking."

"Woo-hoo, pal! Phoenix Wright, ace attorney is back!"

"I wouldn't say that exactly…it's technically 'Kasanov and Co.'…"

"Well…all the same, I got you a case!"

"**Really**?"

"Yeah! You and um…your apprentice can go to the detention center tomorrow…"

"Thanks…Detective Gumshoe."

"Anytime, pal! Oh…there was something I was supposed to tell you…but I don't remember what…"

"Huh?" That was never a good sign.

"Oh well. It probably wasn't important. I'll see you later, Mr. Wright."

"Good…bye…"

He hung up the phone.

"Hey, Miss Kasanov? Would you like some macaroni and cheese?" Trucy hadn't thought of anything different.

Kasanov stared at the black crisps in the bowl for a moment. Then she turned to Phoenix.

"Was that a case?"

"Yeah, actually…It was…"

She paused for a moment, letting the information sink in.

"Good. We'll start investigating tomorrow."

She left without another word. Or the macaroni and cheese.

--

_He knew it was a dream the moment he looked into the mirror and saw his fourteen-year-old self. _

_It wasn't the same blurry, confusing nightmare he usually had. This was…like a memory._

_He knew where he was. In the guest bedroom of a house in America. His mentor was asleep several rooms away, or so he hoped._

_Details fell back into place one by one. This was a business trip, and he had come along to watch the courtroom procedures. He was being trained by the murderer of his father. This sickened him._

_He remembered Franziska being upset. She had refused to accept that __**he **__had been chosen over her, even though she was the only __**real **__von Karma. _

_He felt a little bad that she had been left alone with only a 'babysitter' and a large stack of textbooks to read…but it wasn't like he could say anything about it. Not to…Manfred von Karma._

_Nightmares of the elevator and the gunshot had awoken him, and he knew he would be unable to get back to sleep, even if it was just a dream. He had to wait anyway…he had the eerie sensation that something was about to happen._

_The phone rang. He jumped, and then scrambled to answer it. _

_But it was just a message, nothing more._

"_..."_

_Silence at first. He started to remember..._

"_Someone tried to shoot me," Franziska said, as though it were an everyday occurrence._

_He waited._

"…_They…they shot Rachel Foster instead." _

_Rachel Foster was the unfortunate 'babysitter'._

"_The trial is in two days and I have to go. I'm a __**witness.**__"_

_She stated the last part as though it a special privilege, one that she had gotten and he had not._

"…_So…" her voice had turned quiet again, "Tell my father I won't be able to finish all my reading."_

_The message ended. He suddenly woke up._

He had to call her back. She hadn't given him near enough information and so he had to call her back.

His fingers found the phone and started to dial. 738…41-

What was he doing? He couldn't call her **now-** It was the middle of the night!

He put the phone down. It was just a dream, and dreams didn't mean anything.

But he couldn't shake the feeling. Guilt. He felt guilt.

He fell back into the indistinguishable nightmare, knowing he would never remember in the morning.  
It was even worse this time.


	5. Special

Thank you very much for the review! I have decided to continue this, but I would still like to hear your thoughts! If you read this, please review it!

* * *

When he stumbled into the office at seven-thirty, she was already there. Maybe he was still asleep, but he didn't quite see how this was possible.

"You shouldn't leave your keys in such an obvious location. It's very easy for people like me to take them and have copies made."

That explained it.

"You stole my keys?"

"I **borrowed **them. Besides, it saves you the trouble of having to get up at a **reasonable** time and answer the door." She seemed to be in a very logical mood. He supposed it was a good thing.

"Well…I guess…we should go investigate." He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Do you think so?" Kasanov said sarcastically, then walked toward the door, a small bag in her hands.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing.

"…Important information. Yesterday I went to the police department and persuaded a detective to give me more details."

"You…you mean detective Gumshoe?"

"Something like that…" she paused, "He was very…cooperative. I have all the information I need."

They exited and Phoenix locked the door behind them. He got a strange feeling…confusion.

"Wait…how did you know who to look for?" She couldn't possibly know the detective. There was no way-

"You shouldn't leave your phone in such an obvious location. It's very easy for people like me to find pictures and information on all of your contacts."

Oh.

"You stole my phone, too?"

"**Borrowed**. I saved us valuable time."

He sighed. Only five minutes had passed and it was already shaping up to be a very long day.

--

In the next hour, he learned two important things about his apprentice.

The first: She was very precise. Details mattered. She would hang on every last word of whoever she was talking to and only draw conclusions when she knew the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She investigated anything and everything that looked suspicious or out-of-place, and made a note of it in a little book. Nothing escaped her.

He had to admit, he was a little jealous.

The second: She could make **anyone** fess up. Trick people into giving away more than they wanted. Cut through the locks on their heart as though there was nothing there. She got more information in an hour than he usually did in a day.

And she couldn't even see what she was breaking into. He hadn't shown her the magatama, thinking she wouldn't believe that it actually worked.

But…for all he knew, that was exactly what she was using. She might just be another spirit medium, who just happened to come to him, without even knowing about everything he'd been involved in.

But that sounded a little far-fetched.

"Hey, Mr. Wright!"

He had gotten all ready to save a clueless amateur from certain death, and she'd turned out to have things in total control-

"Mr. Wright?"

It had taken him so much longer to figure everything out-

"Mr. Wright?!?"

She would never have fallen for such a ridiculous trap. Not like him-

"Well, I can see where I'm not wanted…"

"Huh?" He hadn't even realized someone was speaking to him.

"Finally, pal. I thought your brain had fried or something from staring too long."

He blinked a few times to clear his head. "So…what was it you wanted to tell me?"

On the other side of the room, Kasanov was talking to someone…he couldn't quite make out the words.

"Err…well…I just wanted to tell you…I think your apprentice is doing a great job! You really trained her well!"

Shifty eyes and suspicious pauses were definite markings of a poor liar.

"…Thanks Detective Gumshoe. But that wasn't what you wanted to tell me."

"Nope." He looked embarrassed, "I actually have some news. Good and bad."

"Oh." He wondered what 'good' and 'bad' really meant to the detective.

"See, I remembered what I was supposed to tell you yesterday. So…which do you want first?"

"Either." He didn't really want to hear bad news, and he didn't really trust good news. No news was just fine. But that wasn't an option.

"Well…the **good** news is about the prosecutor tomorrow. Don't worry, it's not Mr. Edgeworth."

It wasn't?

"What do you mean, 'the good news'?" Going back to court would be a whole lot easier if he actually knew someone there…of course, he didn't really know Edgeworth anymore…

"Well…Mr. Edgeworth…um…I shouldn't say."

Now Phoenix **really** wanted to know.

"Shouldn't say **what**?"

"Well…he doesn't really um…think you're innocent…" The detective looked down dejectedly.

Of course not. He shouldn't have even thought or hoped for a second that Edgeworth still trusted him. He had let the prosecutor down. He had let Maya down. He couldn't think of anyone who he hadn't let down.

"So what's the bad news?"

"It's about the prosecutor tomorrow. It's Mr. Gavin, pal."

It wasn't Klavier Gavin's fault that he was so stupid. Klavier Gavin hadn't **forced** him to present that evidence. Klavier Gavin probably felt bad about what had happened.

Someone else was responsible. He had a feeling he knew who.

"That's fine."

"You're not upset, pal?"

"I'll be okay."

He wondered if he would ever be 'okay'.

--

Rain beat silently against the surface of the lake. The droplets had driven away all the tourists, and he was the only one in the entire area. He was alone, motionless, with nothing to see but the water and the trees that surrounded it.

But that was alright. He wasn't there to see anything.

To tell the truth, he didn't know why he was there. It wasn't as though being in that spot would serve any purpose, fix anything, or provide any consolation. He was there because he had driven to the location, but without thought, without the deepest flickering of his consciousness-it must have been instinct. Some sort of desire that he couldn't destroy or deny, that would linger in him until he satisfied it. Even though there was nothing he could do.

He had been there a few times before, each quieter than the last, leaving him with the sense of being forgotten. No one even knew he had come, and no one would notice when he left. His life had downgraded to simple things. He lived second by second, feeling by feeling.

But he couldn't stay at the lake. He had a life to get back to.

It was a dense forest, and he couldn't look too long at his surroundings for fear he might see something. Every unusual color grabbed for his attention, but he couldn't stop to observe. He wouldn't let himself.

The car waited for him at the edge of the forest, wet leaves sticking to the windows and roof, and he drove it away from the desolate place, trying to leave his emptiness behind. He had other things to focus on.

The office was busy. It always was. But now people avoided eye contact with him, even going to the length of ducking into a doorway when he came by. He supposed his expression kept them away.

He didn't want to talk to them anyway-he had somewhere to go. Somewhere important.

She wasn't in her office. Knowing her, she was probably working on a zillion cases and wouldn't be back to the building for a while.

He couldn't wait for her. She would go away again as soon as she saw him.

All he could do was leave a message.

He noticed other notes he'd written scattered haphazardly about the desk. She probably hadn't had time to read them…or hadn't wanted to.

But he could see…it was somewhere on every one of the scraps of paper.

The words 'I'm sorry'.

He wondered if she would ever forgive him.

--

She peered around the corner again, sneaking a glance at the defense attorney. Still writing. As though nothing else in the world was as important as the letters on the page.

Trucy was a little frightened of her. But then again, she didn't really **know **her either. She only knew three things.

One: Her name was Kasanov. Mirabel Kasanov.

Two: She was a defense attorney currently working at the Wright and Co. Law Offices.

Three: She had said something, done something, to give Trucy's father a look of complete withdrawal, rendered him unable to speak as though his very soul had been extracted and beat to a pulp.

And Trucy was going find out what this 'something' was.

She wasn't very good at thinking up plans on the spot, so this one involved butterscotch pudding. The little package was all she could find in the cabinet. Money in the household was tight, at best.

So she made butterscotch pudding. It didn't cure her uneasiness, but at least it was an ice breaker.

"Miss Kasanov?"

The woman jerked up sharply, startled into reality.

"Do you need something?" She didn't look ready to assist.

"Um…no…But I made some-"

"Pudding?"

"Yeah…that."

Kasanov glanced doubtfully at the tan-colored goop before resuming what she was writing.

"D-do you want some?" It was silly for her to be so afraid-this woman couldn't do anything to her!

Phoenix's expression flashed before her eyes. She shivered.

"Not particularly." Kasanov looked at Trucy again, "Where's your father?"

"Daddy? He's at work right now…or do you mean my other daddy?"

"You have two?"

"Yep! My real daddy is Zak Graymarye…but he's gone now…"

The pen stopped. "Gone?"

"I don't know where he is."

She resumed writing. "So…Mr. Wright is your adoptive father?"

"Yeah. He adopted me after…that trial…"

"I assume you're referring to the trial in which he presented forged evidence and lost his badge?"

Trucy didn't like hearing the story that way.

"Somebody else forged it."

Kasanov regarded her skeptically. "Do you have proof?"

Trucy froze. She had been trying to forget what had happened…no one had ever brought it up before.

"A bad person gave it to me…they told me to bring it to daddy…so I did."

"**What?**" the attorney stared in shock.

"I shouldn't have done what they said…"

"Who was it?" she demanded.

"I don't remember…" Tears formed in the eleven-year-old's eyes. "I only saw them once…"

There was a pause.

"That's unfortunate." Kasanov returned to work.

Trucy left the room in complete withdrawal, as though someone had extracted her very soul and beat it to a pulp.

But at least she had pudding…

--

_When he woke up, he was in an airplane. Not truly 'awake', he supposed, but at least it was better than another nightmare. This section of the past…wasn't __**as**__ bad as the rest, wouldn't haunt him through the morning and render him incapable of doing work._

_It still wasn't great._

_Three days had passed since he had received the phone call, and he had spoken nothing of it to the unmerciful man next to him. He was frightened, afraid that being the messenger of what seemed like such minor detail would put him on his mentor's bad side. It was impossible to tell what would and what wouldn't be considered his fault._

_Once, he'd tried to reach a plate on a high shelf and it had fallen down and broken. He could remember being paralyzed with fear. It couldn't be repaired, couldn't be used ever again, all because of him._

"_**It's alright…You learn from your mistakes…and we can always buy a new plate. Don't worry."**_

_No! He had to stop thinking about his father. The man cut down prematurely by a stray bullet…one that he'd fired…_

_But it __**wasn't **__him! He hadn't killed his father-it was…von Karma. _

_Anger surged through him, and he could barely keep himself from trying to strangle the prosecutor next to him._

"…_We will be making our descent in approximately twenty minutes, please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to the upright position. Thank you for flying."_

_But it was just a memory. He couldn't change the past._

_The plane landed with a jolt, and he froze, holding his breath until the shaking stopped. Not an earthquake, but the feeling was the same. Fear. Even after all this time, he was still afraid. It wasn't so much the actual event of the ground breaking in two, but what he associated it with. He would never get over that._

_He followed in silence after his mentor to the car that awaited them, willing himself not to trip or do anything else 'imperfect'. Even if it was just a dream, just a __**memory**__, he was still wary of his life. And the person who controlled it._

_He found Franziska in the library, hunched over a textbook as though she were the last remaining person on earth. She didn't even look up when he walked in.  
But she __**did**__ notice._

"_You're back." _

_She was still upset. Probably not a good time to be sarcastic._

"_Yes…"_

"_Did you tell him?"_

_Uh-oh. How was he going to explain this one…?_

"_No." Simple was usually best._

_Franziska slammed the book shut. "Why __**not?**__"_

_Maybe he could just…redirect the conversation._

"_Who shot at you?"_

"_Don't change the subject."_

"_Do they have a suspect?" He wasn't going to lose an argument to a seven-year-old._

"_Do you __**realize **__how much trouble I'm going to be in when he finds out?"_

"_What happened to Rachel Foster?"_

"_Why couldn't you just pass on a simple message?"_

"_What happened yesterday in court?"_

"_I mean, __**you're **__evidently the special one, so I'm __**sure **__he would listen to whatever __**you **__say. It must be nice to be so respected…not like his __**daughter, **__who's a disgrace to the family's name-"_

"_Franziska! Stop! I'm sorry I didn't tell him!"_

_Was she…jealous of him? He couldn't imagine why…It wasn't like he was __**actually **__respected._

"_Whatever. I didn't think you would, so I finished everything last night."_

_Had she just lectured him for no reason at all?_

"…_Sorry. Next time I'll be sure to tell him."_

_She reopened her book and began to read. He didn't leave._

"_You're breaking my concentration."_

"_Franziska…What happened three days ago?"_

_She extracted a manila folder from under her textbook._

"_What's that?"_

"_The file. I suggest you read it."_

_**Rachel Foster, age 21, died yesterday evening with a gunshot wound to the heart. Police officers report that the suspect, who is not named, has confessed to all charges and admitted that their original target was seven-year-old Franziska von Karma, daughter of District Attorney Manfred von Karma. The suspect awaits further trial…**_

_It was just another newspaper article, not quite telling the entire story, but enough to keep the public interested._

_But…there were other things in the file as well…detailed information on the victim and her family…police diagrams…witness testimony…_

_**A figure wearing dark clothing and carrying a gun entered. There was screaming…he pointed the gun at me. He was hesitating…Then he shot. **_

_**At the last second…I think someone got in front of me. The figure panicked…he dropped the gun and ran before anyone could stop him.**_

_He couldn't help but be surprised. Rachel Foster had…protected Franziska? He supposed it might have been fear of Manfred von Karma, but…_

_**I called 911, but it was obvious she was already dead. The police arrived to collect the body and the witnesses. I was questioned.**_

_Why hadn't Franziska wanted to tell him anything? It was like she was hiding something. Even if she gave him all the information in the file, there was still something only she knew…_

_His train of thought stopped dead when he glanced out the window. There was a tree that had grown up to cover a window, and Franziska von Karma was climbing down it onto the manicured grass. _

_That wasn't something he saw every day._

_How was it possible for a little girl to be able to climb down a tree and a teenage boy __**not **__to? It couldn't be __**that **__hard, but as he was dangling from a branch about fifteen feet above the ground, she was getting away. He couldn't make any noise, that would get her attention, but he couldn't be caught in the tree either…no matter how 'special' he supposedly was, he really doubted his mentor would listen to his explanation._

_That left only one choice._

_He jumped…__**fell**__…the fifteen feet into a pile of leaves, silently screaming at Franziska for getting him into this. What could she possibly be sneaking out of the house for? _

_But he knew. It was just a memory, after all. Somehow he had been too distracted to remember._

_Or he hadn't wanted to._

_He followed her to a graveyard, where a group of people were already standing in a circle. _

_She didn't approach them. She just stood, motionless among the gray stones, watching Rachel Foster's funeral from afar._

_He watched her watch it. Her expression was cold, emotionless, her eyes barely showing that she was alive. _

"_**I mean, you're evidently the special one, so I'm sure he would listen to whatever you say. It must be nice to be so respected…not like his daughter, who's a disgrace to the family's name-"**_

_Why had he never noticed before? It…was his fault. By him becoming Manfred von Karma's star pupil, he had crushed Franziska's life. Taken everything away from her. Dreams, opportunity, attention. He had stolen it. She had every right to be angry at him._

_But what was she doing here? It had to be the funeral of Rachel Foster, that much he was sure…but why would she come? Why sneak out of the house and neglect her work just to watch someone you hardly knew be buried?_

_**At the last second…I think someone got in front of me.**_

_He had to talk to her. He had to know what was going on-` _

_The people who had surrounded the grave had begun to walk toward a nearby building, and that included Franziska. _

_He followed her. But he wasn't the only one._

"_Excuse me!"_

_She turned around, and he ducked behind a tree. The figure approaching her was a teenage girl…maybe a year older than him._

"_Y-yes?"_

_He could just barely hear them…just barely see them._

"_Are you…Franziska von Karma?"_

"_Yes…"_

"_I'm Alicia Foster…Rachel's sister. I was just wondering if I could talk with you…"_

"_Fine." _

"_Great!" The girl beamed, "Let's walk over to the building."_

"…_fine."_

_They walked, and he stuck to the treeline. The forest was deeper near the building…darker. The other funeral-goers had gone inside, and he was overcome with uneasiness._

"_So," the girl spoke when they were standing outside the building, "You were with my sister on the day of the murder."_

"_Yes…I was."_

"_And __**you **__were there when she got shot. No…let me rephrase that…__**she**__ was there when someone shot at you__**.**__"_

"_I-"_

"_You just __**had **__to hide behind her, didn't you? You just __**had **__to protect yourself."_

"_That's not what happened!" He could see fear in Franziska's eyes. Actual, genuine fear. She was afraid of Alicia Foster._

"_You just __**had **__to let her die."_

"_It's not my fault!"_

"_But it __**is, **__Franziska von Karma. It's your fault she's dead. Which would make you…the killer."_

"_I didn't-"_

"_Be quiet." _

_She grabbed Franziska's neck and lifted her from the ground._

"_**Let go of her!"**_

_Maybe the fact his voice had startled Alicia Foster…or that he'd just smashed his fist into the back of her head caused her to drop what she was holding and run. _

_Franziska fell to the ground. The girl who had just tried to kill her disappeared into the trees. _

_He had only one option. Follow. _

_Someone grabbed his leg._

"…_Don't…"_

"_Franziska, I have to-"_

"_No…" She seemed to be regaining strength, "You don't have to. She's just angry."_

"_**Just **__angry? __**That's **__your definition of 'just angry'?"_

_Franziska stood up. "She has a mental illness! She'll get over it."_

_He stared at her. "How do you know that..?"_

"…_I knew Rachel Fost-"_

"_A-are you okay?!?"_

_Both of them spun around to face a police officer. She was young, scattered, and had an exceedingly concerned expression on her face._

"_I mean…I-I was supposed to b-be on patrol at the funeral, a-and I s-saw that g-girl…" _

"_Who are you?" Franziska looked suddenly afraid._

"_O-oh…I'm Officer M-Madeline Duncan," she stuttered, "Who ar-"_

"_I'm fine. We'll be leaving now." She started to walk off._

"_Franziska, you can't just-" he started._

"_Wait…you're __**Franziska von Karma**__???" The officer stared._

_She glared at him. "Nice going."_

"_Oh my gosh…are-"_

"_**Don't tell my father about this."**_

"_B-but somebody…a-attacked you…don't you want to report it?"_

"_**No!**__ It's…not important!"_

"_Do you want me to look for-"_

"_I said no! Just leave me alone!"_

"_Officer Duncan…" He said, "You can go back to the station now. We'll contact you if anything else happens."_

"_A-alright, sir." The officer turned hesitantly and walked away._

_He waited until she was out of sight before turning toward Franziska._

"_What's __**wrong **__with you??" he exclaimed._

"_Did __**you **__want my father to find out we're not where we're supposed to be? I don't think that would have gone over very well, do you?!"_

"_N-no, but…someone attacked you…"_

"_And I __**told **__you she'll get over it!"_

"_But…why would she have-"_

"_Because according to her, I'm basically responsible for her sister's death."_

"_That's…" He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry."_

"_How is apologizing supposed to help me?"  
"…You're right. It doesn't help." _

_She wouldn't even look at him anymore. He knew…something was very wrong…but he couldn't do anything to fix that something. He didn't even know what the something was…she had locked herself up and wouldn't speak a word to him._

"_Could you…" he hesitated, "Tell me more about Rachel Foster?"_

_A funny expression crossed her face-a jumble of emotions that he couldn't quite read._

"…_Later. You should go back."_

"_You're not going to come?"_

"_Eventually."_

--

He almost screamed.

Something about the way the dream had ended-cut off in the middle of the story-was…chilling. All of his dreams-even the nightmares-had never given him this horror, this strange feeling of incompleteness. Nothing could shake it.

"_**I mean, you're evidently the special one, so I'm sure he would listen to whatever you say. It must be nice to be so respected…not like his daughter, who's a disgrace to the family's name-"**_

Why did hearing her say that bother him so much? Years had passed since that day...but he couldn't keep her voice out of his head. He was once again filled with guilt.

All the same, he lifted the phone and dialed her number.

Calling…

He hung up before it rang once. He couldn't talk to her…and she wouldn't talk to him.

The only thing he could do was give in to the nightmares.

They didn't come. This time, he really was alone.


	6. No Solutions

Chapter 5. Yeah. If you read this, please review it! **Please!** I don't own any of the charactes. Capcom does. Lisa Miskovsky owns Midnight Sun, the song mentioned later in this chapter. It is awesome. Listen to it.

And PLEASE review!

* * *

"Are you okay, Miss Kasanov?"

He wasn't asking because she looked particularly concerned. He was asking because she_didn't_**. **Her face was completely blank, so much so that he could have sworn she was just a lifeless shell. It worried him, really.

"The prosecutor today…it's Klavier Gavin, correct?" she asked without even glancing at him.

"Yes…"

"Can you tell me anything about him?"

On the edge of his vision, Trucy was having a scintillating conversation with one of the bailiffs. The defendant was being questioned in the judge's chambers.

"He…came to the prosecutor's office three years ago from Germany or something. At age seventeen, no less."

She didn't seem to care. "Anything else?"

"He's the reason I don't have my badge anymore."

"But it wasn't his fault, was it?"

"No, I…I guess…it was my fault…"

He suddenly wanted to admit to absolutely every little crime he had ever committed, so that Kasanov couldn't call him on anything. She...really knew how to get to someone.

"_**People are things to be used…used and thrown away…"**_

But not like that. Not like Engarde. She was-

"Are you daydreaming, Daddy?"

When he looked up, Kasanov was reading over the trial notes, and Trucy was suddenly in front of him, demanding his attention. But…a weird feeling had come over him, one that no amount of Trucy's silliness could shake.

"It's n-nothing."

Normally, there was no way he could lie to Trucy and get away with it. But for once, she stayed silent.

"Your attention please. The trial will begin in five minutes," said a cold, inhuman voice over the PA system. It filled him with an indescribable sense of uneasiness, and he found himself shivering in the unusually warm courthouse.

"Mr. Wright."

He jumped and spun around to face the interrupter of his train of thought. It was Gavin.

Kristoph, of course.

"Oh…um…hi." He tried in vain to exterminate the signs of his nervousness, and though Gavin remained silent, Phoenix was sure that he'd noticed.

"Nice weather we're having."

Wasn't the weather a topic of conversation only for the weak and clueless? Something was different about this man today. He wasn't quite sure what, but **something** was wrong.

"I…I guess so."

"I see that this is your apprentice's first trial."

"I-It is…"

All of the sudden, he wanted to uncover his dark suspicions and demand from Kristoph the truth behind the **incident.** He knew…Kristoph must somehow be there, built into the framework of the case that had brought him down, left him broken and stripped of a badge in a life that was starting to fall apart. He couldn't help but think that it was Kristoph's…fault. His fault. Not Phoenix's. He couldn't possibly carry any more blame for the lives he had ruined and the people he had hurt.

"My brother wishes her luck."

"Okay..um…thanks?"

Kristoph reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

"He also asked me to give her this, but I felt it would be inappropriate to intrude upon a stranger's life for an odd purpose."

Phoenix took the concert ticket.

"He called it a consolation prize."

"Always the confident one, huh…" he tried to laugh, but it came out sounding harsh and unfriendly.

"He has every right to be, Mr. Wright."

Kristoph left, leaving him feeling even more uneasy than before.

"Who was that, Daddy?"

"K-Klavier Gavin's brother…we're friends…I guess…"

"He looked kind of familiar…"

Trucy shot him a worried glance, one he had almost never seen on her.

"Mr. Wright."

Kasanov. He'd almost forgotten she was there.

"Y-yes?"

"I believe the trial is about to start. It would probably be best if the defense was present when it did."

The defense…was he part of the defense? Perhaps as a mentor, but…he would never truly defend again.

"Alright…c-coming." He followed Kasanov in, bracing himself for the place he used to love.

Because right now…he couldn't have hated it more.

--

"Are you okay, Mr. Wright?"

He snapped out of it.

"I…I think…maybe…"

"You're staring at the prosecution…"

He supposed he **had **been staring.

"I'm trying to hate him. But I can't. It…it wasn't his fault."

"I understand…" She glanced around the crowded room, "I hadn't expected this many people…"

Now that she mentioned it, there was a high percentage of giggling teenage girls in the audience, all with their eyes locked on one target.

"It's Gavin. He has a show tomorrow night, and the fangirls must be following him…"

"A show?" She looked at him quizzically.

"A rock concert. He gave you a ticket actually...as a consolation prize…"

She took the ticket. "A confident man."

"I guess…"

She tapped her fingers on the desk. "I would say that confidence can only lead to disappointment…however…I don't believe any disappointment has come to him."

Some days it felt as though everyone went out of their way to make him feel bad. First Kristoph, now-

"You shouldn't worry though." She informed him, smirking.

"Huh?"

"I can beat him. I'm being trained by the best."

He smiled. The first in a long time.

--

The defense was ready. The prosecution believed he was at a rock concert. The judge banged his gavel at the squealing fangirls, and turned his attention to the novice. Or to the man standing next to her.

"Mr. Wright!" If he had fifty dollars for every time someone said that…

"Yes, your honor?"

"What are you doing here? Not defending, I hope..."

Guess he could add the judge to the long list of people who didn't believe in him.

"No, I just-" He started.

"He's with me. **I'll **be the one defending." Kasanov informed the judge impatiently.

"Err…well…okay…and you are?"

She blinked at him. "I don't know, what does it say in your report?"

"Um…it says-"

"This isn't grade school. Names are not important. The trial is."

"Well, that's-" The 'rock-god' at the prosecution's bench interrupted him.

"Herr Judge. If the Fräulein wants to start the trial, what are we waiting for?"

"Excuse you?"

"The stage is set, the performers have arrived, and the audience screams for the show to begin. We must appease them, ja?"

The audience screamed. The judge banged his gavel. The audience continued screaming.

He turned to Kasanov. "So…what do you think?"

"He's..." she looked for a word to describe the prosecutor, "…a fop."

"Don't judge by appearances…he has better control of this than you might think…"

As if to illustrate this point, Gavin quieted the crowd with a single wave.

"Impressive." Kasanov surveyed the room, "But I'm not too worried."

To sum it up in one word, she was…good. He had suspected as much, but she was good in a different way than he had been when he first began. She wasn't inherently lucky, and never bluffed, but she could take evidence that already existed and prove anything at all. Maybe, if he had just had that power, he could have avoided-

No. He wasn't going to be jealous of her.

Still, he couldn't help pointing out a few obvious contradictions in testimony.

"No, I can't." She shook her head as he motioned to an item in the court record.

"Why not?"

"It's a trap. He wants me to present it so he can get another testimony…one that proves his point."

He almost didn't want to admit it…but she was right. If he had had that sense…the eerie feeling he was approaching a trap…he could have-

And here he had just finished telling himself that he wasn't going to be jealous. He couldn't be…it wouldn't be fair to her. The young, impressionable one.

What was he saying? He wasn't **that **old. Only twenty-nine, and many people his age must…

Have lived an entire lifetime in three years. Gone from the mighty to the disgraced with a single piece of paper and a poor decision. Watched the remnants of their past life turn to sand and fly away.

But Kasanov was still in her first life, and holding tight to it. And most likely…wouldn't dream of making the same mistake.

So he was an example of what **not **to be. Lucky him.

--

"It seems as though we have come to an impasse…"

Gavin smiled at the crowd, silently thanking them for the help they hadn't given. They all screamed anyway.

The judge pounded his gavel. "And therefore, the trial must be suspended until further testimony can be gotten…"

The audience booed.

"The court requests that both the prosecution and defense look for possibilities which have not yet been explored…"

Kasanov sighed impatiently.

"And um…the trial is suspended until tomorrow! You can all go!"

The prosecutor had scarcely left the bench when he was surrounded by clamoring fans.

His apprentice looked on amusedly. "What a showoff…"

He faked a laugh. "Yeah…but…"

"And a real nuisance in court…is it so hard to choose **one **language?"

"I've heard stories-"

"Inviting an entire audience of people who aren't even involved in the case? This **isn't **a rock concert…"

"They say that-"

"But…he's very good, as far as prosecutors go…I think I understand what happened now…"

"Are you finished ranting?"

She looked embarrassed. "Yes…sorry…"

"I've heard that he's...**different**…from other prosecutors…"

She raised an eyebrow. "Different?"

He couldn't figure out a good way to explain it to a novice like her… "There was someone…a prosecutor…who had realized that there was more than guilty verdicts…that the goal of a lawyer was to find the truth…"

"You mentioned that in your files…I can't imagine there are many prosecutors who realize that…"

"No, of course not." He laughed. "I know one who certainly doesn't-"

"But…they say Mr. Gavin is like that?"

"Yeah…"

"I'm having a difficult time believing that."

He glanced at the seemingly clueless rock star, who was currently signing a huge poster of himself for a pair of teenage girls.

"Guess we'll have to wait and see, huh…"

--

_Just when he couldn't wait for her any longer, she arrived. The sun was already low in the sky, and he barely noticed her shadow framed against the branches. But she was there, just another little girl climbing a tree into her room._

_Franziska had taken a long time to come back. He had finished at least fifty pages by the time she was glaring at him again._

"_Why are __**you **__here?" She demanded, still a bit out of breath. Her tone was accusatory, her eyes tired. He couldn't get a good read on her emotions. _

_Although, she __**was **__a von Karma, so perhaps that was understandable._

"…_I was waiting for you to come back…" He wanted the answers that only she seemed to have._

"_Why?! So you could __**interrogate **__me some more?!?" _

"_No, I just-"_

"_Wanted __**answers**__?!? Ever think that I don't really want to __**talk about **__the fact that someone __**shot **__at me three days ago?!"_

"_But you said-"_

_`"That I would tell you every little detail of my life?! I don't __**think**__ so."_

"_I-"_

"_Stop acting like you care! This isn't __**your **__family-you don't even __**want **__to be here!! Why can't you just go somewhere else and pretend to be interested in everything that goes on with __**other **__people__and leave __**me**__ alone! I'm not your charity case!! I'm not here to help you feel better about yourself since you murdered your __**own**__ family!!"_

_A moment of silence._

_Complete silence, the type where time slows down. _

_Where you can't even manage to think. _

_Where you expect an asteroid to suddenly fly down and knock you back into reality._

_Because she __**hadn't **__just said that. She couldn't have._

_How could she possibly know?_

"_**Fine.**__"_

_That was all he could manage to say before he turned and left the room. Because she was right- he didn't want to be here. He wanted to be back at home, with his father, with his friends. He couldn't breathe here._

_But at least before, he thought he might find some value in his miserable excuse for a life. Something to save...if only to overcome his guilt. As though rescuing one person could make up for destroying another._

_Of course, he hadn't rescued her at all. Rather, he'd done the opposite. He'd taken her place, pushed her deeper into the water where the hint of oxygen she'd had before was gone. _

_So that was two people he'd extinguished. Perhaps he was a curse._

"_**Wait!**__"_

_Franziska sounded small, afraid. He wasn't accustomed to that sort of helplessness from her…it sounded like she actually regretted something._

"_I'm sorry…I…shouldn't have…"_

_He was still completely frozen. It would take a while to thaw._

"_I didn't mean…to say that…"_

_Because that somehow fixed everything? She hadn't __**meant **__to say it, so he was just supposed to pretend like nothing had happened?_

_No. He couldn't._

"_What __**did **__you mean to say??" He didn't recognize his own voice. This person…they were angry, vicious. They hated anyone who dared to point out their wrongdoing._

"_I…I was just…" She looked as though she were about to cry. That was a first._

"_Angry at me? You think I __**meant **__to kill my father?!?"_

"_N-no I…"_

"_Did __**you **__mean to kill Rachel Foster?!"_

_He had found Franziska von Karma's breaking point. Quite simply, the seven-year-old was in tears._

"_I...I didn't…kill her…"_

_He then realized that they were exactly alike. They both preyed on other's mistakes. But…whereas she was right about his father…he was wrong about Rachel Foster. _

_And considering she'd almost been strangled that day by someone who blamed her…maybe she needed someone on her side._

_But…how could she have known? It was impossible!_

"_Who told you??" He must have seemed like a real jerk now, yelling at a little girl in tears. As though the little girl hadn't started it. As though the little girl couldn't possibly do anything to hurt him._

_She opened her mouth as if to answer. He knew…he just knew it would be something like 'Papa told me' or the like…_

"…_**You did."**_

_No…_

_What? _

_How could he have told her?!? He…had no memory whatsoever of such an event._

"_Five years ago…"_

_She was slow to explain herself._

"_Five years ago what?! What did I tell you!?"_

"_W-when you first came here…" She hastily wiped a tear away. "I couldn't sleep…so I was walking around…"_

_She took a breath as though preparing herself for war._

"…_When I passed by your room…I heard you talking. You must have been dreaming or something…but you kept saying the same thing, over and over."_

_He waited impatiently._

"_You said… _

"_**I did it! I killed him…it's my fault! Don't…don't let me survive for what I did…"**_

"_I-it was like…a confession. I had already read the case file, so I put two and two together…"_

_He couldn't speak. For five years, Franziska had known and had said nothing, nothing at all to him. She had not accused him of murder. She had not even asked about his father._

_Maybe she was a better person than he gave her credit for._

"_Did…did you really?" She asked, as though she didn't believe he was capable of such a crime._

"_A-accidently. I didn't…I didn't mean to…but that doesn't change anything."_

"_I'm sorry…"_

"_How is apologizing supposed to help me?" They were her words, but she was still hurt by them. He had to calm down._

_Franziska stared at the floor, the very picture of an ashamed child who had done something wrong and was now being punished. _

_Everything was just so…terrible. He couldn't think of a single solution…not for unsolvable problems. His father was dead and he had killed him. Rachel Foster was dead, and even if Franziska hadn't killed her…she was still blamed. _

_You couldn't bring people back from the dead, just like you couldn't turn back time and stop them from being killed. _

_There were simply no more options._

"_I…I'll tell you…" Her voice was broken, fading into regret._

_He listened._

"…_Rachel Foster was my caretaker while you and Papa were away…I immediately disliked her. She was nosy. She wanted to know why I spent all my time studying. Why I was always alone."_

_He didn't want to admit it, but Franziska __**was **__alone most of the time. Her father hardly paid attention to her, and when he did it was only to criticize. He had only met her elder sister a few times, but she treated Franziska like an obstacle she had to get around. Like she wasn't a real person._

_She had no friends. She simply had no time to make them. He was far too 'special' to be her friend…he was more like her enemy. After all, he had taken what little she had before._

"_But…once she was talking to me…I was trying to study and she wouldn't leave me alone…I yelled at her. And instead of scolding me or yelling back, she said…_

"_**I know how you feel. I lost my mother too."**_

"_I-I didn't know what to say. I just sat there…stunned."_

_He had arrived only a few weeks after the death of Franziska's mother. Her father didn't seem to care one bit, but Franziska was already forming the cold exterior she now possessed. _

_He had never really asked about her mother. After all, he had just lost his own father. _

_It was rather eerie that both deaths had come at the same time._

"_I'm not sure how she found out…but she knew. And then she told me how her mother had died of an illness, three years before. Her twin sister had immediately moved to America to escape the fallout, and her younger sister…Alicia…was completely devastated. She tried to blame someone for the death, but it was no one's fault. It was just an illness, one which couldn't be cured…but she had a mental condition that made her want to blame someone for it."_

_She looked at the ground._

"_No one has ever understood me. Not since my mother died."_

_Just when he was certain she was about to start crying again, she raised her head with a look of defiance._

"_But Rachel Foster did. So I…I tried to change…I tried to be like a normal seven-year-old."_

_He somehow couldn't get a clear visual. She had never been a __**normal**__ anything._

"_It was at park…Crystal Lake or something. There was a rainstorm, and everyone was inside, waiting it out. And then..."_

_She couldn't continue._

"_It's…fine. I read the file."_

"_I-I don't know…I don't know why, but Rachel got in front of me or something before the man could shoot…then he panicked and ran away…"_

"_But they caught him, right?"_

_She nodded. "He'd been following me…later he admitted that he had wanted revenge on my father for a family member given the death sentence. It was just…just revenge."_

"_So he got what he deserved…but-"_

"_Alicia Foster blamed me! Like it was my fault her sister died! Like I hid behind her or something…"_

"_Because she needed someone to blame. You…you didn't do anything." He said it shakily, as though reassuring himself it was true. She hadn't done anything…_

"_Maybe so…but I'm the only she __**can **__blame…"_

"_You said that she would get over it…"_

_Franziska looked at him, eyes flickering with some distant emotion._

"_I certainly hope so."_

_The phone rang._

--

He reached for it, but it wasn't ringing.

And he wasn't in the von Karma manor.

And he wasn't fourteen.

And Franziska wasn't there.

He had only sat down to collect his thoughts for a moment, when…he had been overtaken by that memory. The day that seemed to go on forever and only got worse and worse and worse. Try as he might, he couldn't keep it out of his head.

_The phone rang. He picked it up._

"_Hello?"_

"_O-oh, um, hello? Is th-this Mr. von K-karma?"_

_He wasn't thrilled to be confused for his mentor. Actually, he really hated it._

"_No. It's not. Who is this?"_

"_Th-this is M-Madeline Duncan...are you-"_

"_You're the officer from this afternoon."_

_Franziska's silver eyes widened._

When he blinked, she was gone. Back to the courthouse, where a bailiff was looking at him strangely.

But that was alright. He was used to that alienating glance. He had gotten it before.

"There was someone…a prosecutor…who had realized that there was more than guilty verdicts…that the goal of a lawyer was to find the truth…"

That voice…it couldn't be anyone but Phoenix Wright. He stood and moved toward the door of a courtroom.

"You mentioned that in your files…I can't imagine there are many prosecutors who realize that…"

A female voice…one he didn't quite recognize. He peered around the side of the door until he could see them, Wright and what must have been his new apprentice, lost amongst a sea of people fighting for attention.

"Hang up!" He heard her say.

No…that was…

"_Hang up! Don't talk to her!" Franziska made a grab for the phone, but he jerked it away._

"_Officer…didn't I say __**I**__ would contact you if anything happened?"_

"_I know but-"_

"_You shouldn't have called here. It's too risky."_

_Franziska grabbed his free arm and twisted. It was all he could do not to drop the phone._

"_Did anything else happen to Mr. von Karma's daughter?"_

"_Hang up!"_

"_No, nothing happened…why?"_

"_I…I was worried! I mean, it was my responsibility to catch the attacker, and if something else happens, it will be all my fault!"_

"_That's…correct, I suppose…"_

"_No, of course not." The voice changed dramatically. "I know one who certainly doesn't…"_

Wright. It was Wright's voice.

What was going on? He couldn't keep control of the present and the past...he was being swept under by a current of vivid memories that had somehow embedded themselves into his brain. He couldn't make them stop.

"But…they say Mr. Gavin is like that?"

They were walking towards the door of the room. He wouldn't be able to listen much longer…they would find him.

"_S-so everything is okay?!?"_

"_Yes…"_

"_C-call me if anything goes wrong! Really! Any time!"_

"…_I'll be sure t-"_

_Franziska succeeded in grabbing the phone from him and slamming it down into the receiver._

"_Why did you talk to her?!?" she demanded. "I can't have the police involved in this!!"_

_It was unfortunate…but having the police involved would most definitely alert Manfred von Karma of the situation._

_And neither of them particularly wanted that. There was no telling what might happen._

"_She's not going to tell anyone. She just doesn't want any more incidents to occur."_

"_Yeah."_

_Franziska hadn't just agreed with him…._

"Yeah..."

"I'm having a difficult time believing that."

He was going to get whiplash from being thrown in and out of time this way…why couldn't he keep his head straight?

"Guess we'll have to wait and see, huh…"

He turned and ran from the room before they could come to the door and see him. He didn't want to talk. He wasn't ready yet.

He left the courthouse and drove away.

"_She's not going to tell anyone. She just doesn't want any more incidents to occur."_

"_How can you be sure?!" _

_Well…he couldn't __**really **__be sure, but…_

"_Your father hasn't found out about the incident yet. The officers must be good at keeping secrets."_

"_I…suppose…" She looked away, still concerned._

"_I would feel better if the police were notified, Franziska."_

_It was a simple statement of opinion. She didn't usually listen to him anyway._

"_Why? It doesn't matter…"_

"_Someone tried to kill you. They would have succeeded if I hadn't been ther-"_

"_I could have taken care of it!"_

_He regarded her seriously. "No. You couldn't."_

_She caught a glimpse of his expression and didn't argue._

"_She would have killed you if I hadn't stopped her. And if it happens again, chances are I won't be there."_

"_I-"_

"_You need some way of defending yoursel-"_

"_If I need __**you **__to survive, why don't I just get a dog whistle and use it whenever I'm in danger…" she said sarcastically._

_He decided to ignore her._

"_As I was saying, you need some way of getting help if you're ever in that situation-"_

"_Fine!" She snapped. "Give me your phone!"_

_Without thinking, he took out his cell phone and handed it to her. She hit a complicated string of keys, then gave it back._

"_There. Done."_

"_Done…with what?"_

_She pulled out a phone, presumably her own, and pressed the number key three times._

_**You said you had a war to lose**_

_**You paint the world in black and blue…**_

_It was coming from his phone. _

_**I don't need to use my gun today**_

_**Leave me as you've always done…**_

_A white dot and a red dot had appeared on the display. The red one was blinking, and appeared to be…right next to him._

_**I saw shadows turn and fade away**_

_**Leave me in the midnight sun…**_

"_Franziska…what the heck is this?"_

_She looked at him reproachfully. "It's a tracking device. Can't you tell?"_

"_So…I just go toward the red dot?" _

_It was blinking rather forcefully, like a ticking time bomb about to explode._

"_Depends…are you going to help me?"_

_He glanced at the strong, independent little girl who had been crying only minutes before._

"_Of course I will."_

--

"Mr. Wright."

A woman with light blonde hair and dark blue eyes was talking to him. She looked awfully familiar…maybe he'd seen her before?

"Mr. Wright?"

Yes, he was certain he'd seen her before...but where?

His eyes glazed over as he tried to remember.

"Mr. Wright!" A hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him. The instincts he didn't have shot his fist out, hitting the strange woman in the face and knocking her back a few steps. Then he recognized her.

Oh.

It was Kasanov. His apprentice.

"That **hurt, **Mr. Wright."

"Oops. S-sorry…" Why had he hit her? He hadn't been thinking particularly violent thoughts…

"Do you punch **all **of your apprentices, or just me?"

"Uh…I never…sorry…" Now he couldn't remember anything…had he been thinking of Maya? Or Edgeworth? Or any of the people once present in his life, now disappeared?

She glanced away. "It's alright…I used to beat people up all the time..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes distant.

"What? **Really**?"

"No, Mr. Wright. Not really."

"Oh."

She surveyed the crime scene, nearly devoid of human life. There had been no Detective Gumshoe that night, and no Mr. Gavin. It was a lonely place.

"So…was there something you wanted?"

"I want you to get a driver's license so **I **don't have to drive everywhere. And on that note, today's investigation is finished so we can go back to your office."

He stood shakily and began to walk toward the door, followed by Kasanov.

"So did you find anything interes-"

He crashed into someone.

"Ouch…please watch where you're going, Herr Wright…" It was Gavin.

Klavier, of course.

"Mr. Gavin…we meet again…" Kasanov was doing the talking for him. How convenient.

"Greetings, Fräulein. Enjoying your investigation?"

"No, not at all. Are you?"

"You misunderstand, Fräulein. I am not investigating. I am looking for you." He ran his fingers through his rockstar hair.

She regarded him suspiciously. "What for?"

"We are working on the same case, ja? And we both know that it was not the defendant who committed the murder…"

"What are you saying, Mr. Gavin?"

"I am calling a certain witness tomorrow. If you can present the correct evidence, the truth will be revealed."

Kasanov looked slightly shocked. "Are you…helping me?"

"Ja, Fräulein. Neither of us wants to see an innocent person be found guilty."

She didn't speak.

"I am a perfectionist. I hate to see the wrong verdict be given…but few defense attorneys are capable of proving the truth. You are one of them."

Had he been one of the defense attorneys **in**capable of proving the truth?

"I…" she hesitated. "I understand. See you tomorrow."

She began to walk hurriedly toward the door, and he chased after her, relieved to be away from Gavin.

"Good luck, Fräulein!" the rockstar called after them.

Prosecutors had certainly gotten stranger since he'd left the courtroom.

--

"I can't believe it!" she said again when they had returned to the office, "I mean, a prosecutor trying to **help **the defense find a person not guilty?? Who would do that??"

"Klavier Gavin, apparently."

Kasanov slammed her bag down onto the table. "Well I think it's ridiculous! I…" She suddenly stopped.

"You…?"

"Where's that file??" She began to shuffle the papers around in a search for something, "Earlier today we were talking about prosecutors who were different…what file was that?"

"I…uh…State vs. Engarde, maybe?"

She found it and flipped to a random page. "'Then, Franziska von Karma threw her whip and a tracking device to the ground and stomped off'- no, that's not it…" She kept turning. "I now understand that the reason prosecutors and lawyers stand in the courtroom is not to achieve the verdict they desire, but to discover the truth in each and every case…that is what **he **spent the last year discovering, and what I have now come to realize as the truth…"

"Yes. Exactly."

"I assume by '**he**', you mean the man listed as the prosecutor for this case…"

"Yeah…Edgeworth." He didn't really want to talk about it…

"Is he still a prosecutor?"

"Yeah. He still is."

She smirked. "Good. I'd like to meet him."

--

The phone rang.

He couldn't think of anyone who would possibly be calling him, but he picked it up anyway.

"Wright and Co. Law Offices." He needed to fix that…it wasn't **his **law office anymore.

"Nick…?"

Maya! It was Maya-it had to be! She had called him!

"M-Maya?" Was he stuttering from happiness? Or nervousness?...

"Oh…um…hi, Nick. I was just wondering-"

"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry…I…" He couldn't stop talking…couldn't stop apologizing to her...

"I didn't call to yell at you."

"Oh, I…sorry…"

"Is it true? Did you…did you get an apprentice? That one who called you?"

"Yeah…how did you-"

"Detective Gumshoe told me…so…you're training her?"

"Yes." It was easier than saying she didn't really need the help.

"That's…that's great, Nick. I'm glad you hired her."

He sighed in relief. Maybe she wasn't mad at him anymore…

"Listen, Maya. You were right. I have been wallowing. I'm really sor-"

"We'll talk about that later." Suddenly, there was a shred of annoyance in her voice. He wasn't accustomed to it. "I have a channeling to do."

"Oh, I…okay…good night, Maya."

"Goodbye."

The call ended, and their connection died. He was all alone again. Maya was still angry, even if she **had **called him. She didn't have time to talk about their fight, even if he kept apologizing and apologizing…and she had told him goodbye. He had said good night, and she had said goodbye. That had to mean something.

Something not so great.

Of course, he could have always had a much worse conversation. He could have called Franziska von Karma…**that **would have been a bad conversation, most likely involving a lot of name calling and her attempting to use her whip through the phone.

The thought made him laugh.

Just not enough to take away the pain of 'goodbye'.


	7. Brick By Boring Brick

Okay readers, listen up! If I do not get at least three reviews on this story (any chapter) I will not post any more! If you read this, or have read any chapters before this, REVIEW! I _really_ mean it!

Disclaimer applies.

* * *

"Mr. Wright?" She called from the office.

It was too early. He was still scrambling to find breakfast in the cluttered kitchen. Dishes lay scattered around the sink, and he couldn't find a bowl anywhere, much less actual cereal and milk.

And he had a trial to go to. A trial that wasn't his.

"Mr. Wright?!" Her voice sounded a bit different than normal. A little more familiar, oddly enough.

"Thirty more seconds, please!" He found half a burger and an opened can of grape juice in the fridge and began to scarf it down.

"You know I **despise **waiting, Mr. Wright!" Yes…her voice was _**definitely**_different than usual. That was a little odd.

"Just a little more time?! I overslept!"

There was a laugh from the office. He remembered it so distinctly…just not where he had heard it before.

"I'm coming, I promise!"

"Well, since you seem to enjoy making me wait, we might as well reminisce upon the past…"

He was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. He put down the grape juice.

"…I remember the first day I saw you, there in your neon blue suit…looking like a fool, sweat pouring down your face…you were still a novice…"

He walked shakily toward the opened door of the office.

"…and I thought to myself 'this man doesn't stand a chance!'…but…you had all the luck in the world upon your side, and skills as well. It was I who didn't stand a chance…"

Almost there…

"…but of course, pride being what it is, I denied it…I tried to make you pay for what you'd done…and I must say, the look of pain on your face was _**very**_satisfying…"

He stepped through the door.

"Help me remember…Mr. Phoenix Wright."

His head jerked roughly to the side as the leather connected with his cheek. He cried out in pain.

"Yes, _**exactly**_like that…" She sighed. "Those were the good days…"

He looked into the confident, condescending silver eyes, brain stinging from shock.

"…Franziska."

She smirked. "Well, you certainly have downgraded these past three years…no badge, no friends…and your personal upkeep could use work…"

"…What are you doing here?"

"That wasn't a very nice hello, Mr. Wright…_**you're**_the one who disappeared. Not me…"

"Are you here to yell at me? Look, I don't care if you think I forged evid-"

Franziska took a step forward and slapped him.

"No, I'm not here to talk about that. That's old news…and really, I couldn't care less if a fool like you is suddenly stupid enough to present any random evidence someone gives him. That's none of my concern."

"How do you know-"

"Silence, Mr. Wright. I'll tell you why I'm here."

He was silent.

"Very good." She turned and began to pace around the room. "I'm here to tell you that you're in grave danger."

"Grave danger? I've dealt with professional assassins, Franziska-"

"Let me finish." She glared at him. "As I was saying, you're in grave danger…of _**wasting your life**_**.**" Franziska paused for dramatic effect. "You are twenty-nine years old and have already lived a hundred years. You have acquitted who knows _how many_fools from false murder charges, brought a multitude of evildoers to justice, rescued a helpless girl repeatedly from all sorts of trouble, and made 'the _demon prosecutor'_understand the 'error of his ways'! You have done that all! And then you have suddenly…_**stopped.**_"

She looked directly at him, anger in her eyes.

"All of the sudden, you have no life. You have no dreams, no goals. You cast everything you used to know away all because you made a _**foolish mistake**_**. **You have stopped living. Your life goes on, but Phoenix Wright is _**gone**_**.**"

"I don't need you to tell me-"

She pushed him forcefully against the wall.

"Is this how you want the rest of your life to be? Do you want to live broken because someone finally succeeded in destroying you? Or do you want to find that someone? Find them and make them pay…"

"Franziska…"

"Don't talk to me like that. Don't talk to me until you're the person I used to know. Until you take back what is rightfully yours and begin _**living!**_**"**

He stared at the prosecutor, stunned.

"She's right, Phoenix."

He turned and remained stunned at the sight of Mia Fey. Standing there, as though it were completely normal and she hadn't _died _six years before.

"Mia?!?"

"She's right. You're wasting your life. You're not the Phoenix Wright the world used to know."

"But you're dead! How can you be-"

Franziska pushed him harder into the wall. "Because you're dreaming, Mr. Phoenix Wright."

His eyes widened.

"And now it's time to _**wake up**_**.**"

--

He woke up screaming.

"Daddy?!? Are you okay?!?" Trucy ran in, armed with a hairbrush and ready to attack.

He coughed, trying to breathe. Franziska was gone. Mia was gone. They had never been there in the first place.

It was just a dream, and dreams didn't mean anything.

"Fr…Franzis…Franziska von Karma…" he muttered shakily.

"Who's that, Daddy?"

Phoenix shook his head. "It's no one…"

"Did you have a bad dream about her?" Trucy looked ready to find the prosecutor and teach her a lesson.

He smiled. "I'm fine, Trucy…what time is it?" He wasn't fine. He could still hear her voice in his head.

"Seven-thirty! Miss Kasanov will be here in a minute!"

On cue, the door unlocked and opened in the other room.

"C-could you go get that, Trucy? Make sure it's actually Miss Kasanov…?"

She looked at him confusedly. "Um…sure thing, Daddy!"

The eleven-year old ran off, leaving him alone with **her.**

"_**Is this how you want the rest of your life to be? Do you want to live broken because someone finally succeeded in destroying you? Or do you want to find that someone? Find them and make them pay…"**_

Maybe it was only his thoughts, but it certainly sounded like her.

"_**Don't talk to me like that. Don't talk to me until you're the person I used to know. Until you take back what is rightfully yours and begin living!"**_

Why now? He had never had dreams of her before…he hadn't even thought of her much in the last three years…

"_**That wasn't a very nice hello, Mr. Wright…you're the one who disappeared. Not me…"**_

He stood and tried to shake his head clear of the dream. He was frightened and dizzy, and had probably five minutes to be ready to go. Mirabel Kasanov was waiting.

And yet, he couldn't help but wonder if he should be taking 'Franziska von Karma's' advice.

--

"Mr. Wright?" She called from the office.

He found the grape juice, though not the burger, in the refrigerator and walked toward the opened door.

"Mr. Wright?" He was about ninety percent sure that it was Kasanov speaking.

"Yes?" He asked, stepping through the doorway to see Trucy smiling excitedly next to the defense attorney. He breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was okay.

Kasanov looked at the middle schooler before speaking to him. "Truancy is still a crime, correct?"

"Um, yes…I think…"

"And your daughter missed school yesterday, correct?"

"Yeah-" Trucy cut him off.

"Can I _**please**_go to the trial, Daddy??"

He smiled. "You know the school won't be very happy with me if you miss more days…you'll have to switch schools, even."

She looked down disappointedly.

"Is there some reason you wanted to go to the trial?"

Trucy looked at Kasanov. "It's a secret! But…I'll tell you…"

She whispered something to the defense attorney. Phoenix couldn't hear a thing.

"So secret you can't tell me…?"

Trucy nodded.

"She wants to see that foppish rockstar again. Mr. Gavin..." His apprentice didn't seem to understand the meaning of 'secret'.

He almost laughed. "I…see. But you should probably go to school…"

Trucy sighed and lifted her backpack from the floor. "Okay then…I'll see you later Daddy! And you, Miss Kasanov!"

The door closed.

"She really wanted to see Mr. Gavin?"

Kasanov shook her head. "Sort of…she wanted to see that man who spoke to you yesterday in the defendant lobby. The man who looked like Klavier Gavin."

His eyes widened. "Kristoph? Why?"

"She said he looked familiar, like someone she might have seen once…and she told me not to tell you. She doesn't want you to worry."

"I…I see…"

"_**Is this how you want the rest of your life to be? Do you want to live broken because someone finally succeeded in destroying you? Or do you want to find that someone? Find them and make them pay…"**_

He went pale and tried to shake the voice out of his head.

"Am I a ghost, Mr. Wright?"

"N-no…I'm fine…"

"Then let's go. You're wasting your life."

And with that eerie but unknowing comment, she was gone.

--

The courtroom was even more packed than the previous day. Fans spilled from the audience box and into the lobby outside. And they were all screaming.

Phoenix covered his ears.

"Remember…if you win this, the fangirls will probably murder you…"

"That's unfortunate…I'd like to avoid dying if at all possible."

The judge pounded his gavel repeatedly until the audience became…quieter.

"This is the second day of court for this case…" he began above the remaining chatter, "I have asked the defense and prosecution to gather more information on the nature of this case…what have you uncovered, Prosecutor Gavin?"

"A witness, Herr Judge. I would like to call a witness."

The audience cheered loudly.

Kasanov turned to him, a serious look in her eyes. "This is it, Mr. Wright."

"This is…it?"

"This is where we take back the truth. You had better be ready."

He smiled. She had said 'we'. For just a moment, he had risen from the dust.

"_**Don't talk to me like that. Don't talk to me until you're the person I used to know. Until you take back what is rightfully yours and begin living!"**_

And now he had to stay out of the dust.

He got the feeling that was going to be a little harder.

--

"…It seems as though a verdict in this case has been reached…"

The entire audience was glaring fiercely at the defense. Prosecutor Gavin smiled.

"…It has become clear that the defendant did not commit the crime, and therefore I must now pronounce my verdict...are there any last statements from the prosecution or defense?"

"Herr Judge…I have a performance tonight and a practice in twenty minutes…this case is wrapped up, ja?" Upon this statement, the rockstar began to mime playing his electric guitar.

"Um…yes…what are you saying?"

"He's saying that he has somewhere to be, and he would appreciate it if a verdict could be declared now." Kasanov looked around the room. "And so would I."

"Oh! Well! In that case um…the court finds the defendant…not guilty."

The audience booed.

"Court is adjourned!"

At that, the clamoring crowd spilled from the stands and filled the courtroom, practically trampling the prosecutor and bailiffs. The members of the defense team fought their way through the not-to-pleased fans, amidst pushing and shoving. They emerged into the lobby and Phoenix shut the door behind them.

"Well…" she began when it was quiet, "That was certainly…exciting. Is being a defense attorney always so tedious?"

He laughed. "Afraid so…"

Then he realized that he was laughing and immediately stopped.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Wright?"

"No…it's nothing…"

He had been laughing and smiling a lot recently…losing the cold sheen he had developed on the day his world ended.

"_**Nick! You've been…depressed for the past three years! You need to get over it!"**_

Was it Maya? Was it knowing that his depression had hurt her so deeply?

"_**You…you need to change something. You're just…wallowing right now."**_

Or was it the change in his life…the chance to live again.

He glanced suspiciously at Kasanov, who was staring down the hallway.

"…It seems that man is walking toward us…someone you know, Mr. Wright?"

He looked.

"I…I guess you could say that…"

He tried desperately to become invisible, but it was one superpower he didn't seem to have.

"Wright."

What was he supposed to say? Hello? Funny running into you again? Why don't you believe in me?

The prosecutor ignored his silence and turned his attention to the stranger.

"And you are?"

"Mirabel Kasanov…I'm Mr. Wright's apprentice."

"…Miles Edgeworth. It's nice to meet you." He didn't sound even remotely happy.

"Likewise."

They shook hands. Then silence.

The tension was deafening.

"What brings you here Wright, Miss Kasanov?"

He couldn't answer.

"A trial." There was uncertainty in her voice…she was nervous. Just like him.

"Your first?"

Kasanov nodded.

"And what was the outcome of this trial?"

"Not guilty."

Another dead silence.

"Well, I suppose I'll read about it in the papers."

"Yes."

"And I'll see you in court in the future."

"…Yes."

"Until then."

The prosecutor continued down the hall without so much as another word.

She waited until he was gone to speak.

"That was…" she didn't finish.

"Yes."

"He…didn't seem very pleased to see you."

"He thinks that I forged the evidence."

There. He'd said it. Said it out loud, and it was suddenly…real. He had known- it was easy to see, but saying it…it was the unchangeable truth now.

"And have you explained yourself?"

"No…" How was he supposed to tell her that she was the only one he'd ever explained it to? That he hadn't even told Maya Fey, the girl who had trusted him unconditionally for three years, even if it meant damage to her own reputation.

"How can you expect him to believe in you if you offer no explanation, Mr. Wright?"

"I…I don't know…I just thought…"

"You should tell him. If you have any hope of getting your badge back, you're going to need all the help you can get."

He stared at Kasanov.

"_**Don't talk to me like that. Don't talk to me until you're the person I used to know. Until you take back what is rightfully yours and begin living!"**_

He shook the voice out of his head. Just a dream.

"…To change the topic, do you think that I will be facing Mr. Edgeworth next?"

"I'd say…probably."

"…Good."

She ended the conversation by walking away.

--

It was a nice afternoon- a change from the unrelenting rain that had fallen the past few days. The sun was in the middle of its descent, and the gray clouds that had hung in the air that morning were gone. It was windy- not enough to blow through the window and knock the papers off her desk, but enough to make an otherwise hot day only warm. The village was flittering with younger mediums on break, and the weekly tour was just making its way toward the main house, another crowd of people waiting to see the master.

She hoped they wouldn't be disappointed.

Maya had changed things quite a bit since her ascent into authority- more commercialization as a start; she had opened the market to mail-in orders, with customary background checks on each and every request. Everything had to be approved by her, which was quite a painstaking process. She tended to scan the document and put a check on the top- no one had ever tried to scam them. It would simply take too long to read the entire paper.

In addition, she'd asked the mediums to file a report at the completion of a channeling- successful or not. Those already familiar with the technique received higher quality service, and so on. It was quite complicated, and she doubted she would have been able to handle it five years earlier.

But she had changed now. She was okay being alone inside. She was okay if her and Nick were drifting separate ways. She was okay sending Pearly out into the real world to learn what she had been missing. She was okay if her only real conversations were once in a while with a man she only half-knew over the telephone.

Everything was alright.

Or at least, she had to make it look that way.

"Ms. Fey?"

She snapped back to attention. It was Katrina Erilland, researcher and somewhat assistant. She had come to the village as a skeptic, but had stayed once clear that the technique was absolutely, one hundred percent real. Maya had always assumed she was writing a novel or the like, but had never gotten the time to discuss it. It hardly mattered anyway. She was a customer, and business was good.

"Ms. Fey, the tour is here to see you. You might not want to be in a modern-looking office with a laptop computer and a cell phone in plain sight."

"Huh? Oh…right." She rose from the desk and trudged to the door without enthusiasm.

A crowd of about twenty eager-eyed tourists were awaiting the master's appearance in the hall, several clutching notebooks and eccentric-looking pens.

"Can you please describe the process of channeling a spirit?"

"How long do you train every day?"

"Is it hard to be a spirit medium?"

She nodded at them, knowing each and every question they would ask, word for word. She had an answer for them all. Every stranger.

It was the people she knew that she didn't have answers for.

It was six-thirty when her cell phone rang, and the first thought that crossed her mind was that she didn't want it to be Nick. She didn't want to have another awkward conversation involving his apologies or what she had said to him. She didn't even want to speak to him at all- at least not today.

It wasn't Nick.

"Miss Fey?"

"Oh! Um…hi, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Am I interrupting something?"

"…Not really, no."

He was different then the prosecutor she remembered from three years ago. He spoke less, and rarely looked happy- almost never, in fact. She supposed she couldn't blame him, after what had happened and all.

"You heard about Wright's apprentice, correct?"

"Yes. The detective told me."

"I ran into them both at the courthouse today. Wright seemed genuinely happy…at least before he saw me, of course. I suppose it must be-"

"His apprentice…"

"Yes." The prosecutor hesitated. "I…know that you believe in his innocence, and if you think that there is truly another explanation for his crime, then you may be able to find it."

"You really think he…?" She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"I have found in the past that people are devious and cruel. It's difficult for me to trust someone with no evidence supporting them."

"I…understand."

A short silence passed between them, as it always did.

"Listen, Mr. Edgeworth…if you ever need any help with an…um, an investigation, you know I-"

"I'd rather not discuss it, Miss Fey."

"I'm the master now, so-"

"No thank you."

He never wanted her help. He never wanted to be sure.

"If you ever change your mind-"

"I won't."

Another silence.

"I guess I'll…talk to you later, then, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Yes…good night, Miss Fey."

She hung up the phone, and was immediately greeted by the blaring siren of a police car.

--

"Daddy? How many cups of flour?"

He had no idea how many cups of flour. No one had ever taught him how to bake.

"Two." Kasanov said, not looking up from what she was writing.

"Okay! Thank you, Mo-Miss Kasanov!"

Trucy bounced back into the kitchen.

His apprentice gritted her teeth.

"Mr. Wright…what did your daughter just almost call me?"

He sighed. "…Don't worry about it. She's just…a friendly person…"

Kasanov shook her head. "She'd better be."

Silence for a moment. The clocked ticked, a pen moved across paper, and the air turned somber. The defense attorney at Mia's desk seemed out-of-place, a little too grave and serious for the majority of his old memories working here. There had been the odd time or two- his mentor's death, the kidnapping case- but mostly he remembered Maya and Pearl, the times they'd been there- sitting on the couch, playing with the television. Those had been good times.

But there was something dark about Mirabel Kasanov- at least today. Maybe only for only the past few hours, she was too quiet for him to tell. He couldn't quite understand what was wrong, and didn't know if he should ask about it.

"Ar-"

"Daddy, I can't stir it!"

He sighed again, then left for the kitchen to help his daughter bake a cake.

When he returned, she seemed even gloomier than before.

"You know...you don't have to write that entire report tonight. You **can **take some time to be happy."

Silence.

"You did really well in the trial today. You're a natural."

"Not really."

"You are."

She gave no response.

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

"You've been kind of…doom and gloom since after the trial."

She said nothing.

"Daddy! It's ready now!" Trucy paraded triumphantly into the room, cake tin in tow.

He peeked at the contents.

"It's looks…liquid."

"Yeah, I know! I thought it was kind of weird…" She scratched her head in confusion.

"Did you bake it?"

"Nope!"

"I think you have to bake it for it to qualify as cake…"

She glanced at the liquid. "How do you do that?"

Phoenix shrugged.

"Put it in the oven at 350° Fahrenheit for forty-five minutes." Kasanov stated, barely looking up.

"Okay!"

Trucy left with a jolt, nearly spilling the mixture.

"Well…" He turned to his apprentice. "You seem to know about cooking."

"Not really."

It was like talking to a brick wall. Every word he threw out just came bouncing back to him.

"My parents never taught me how to cook…"

A pause.

"…My parents are dead."

"Oh. I'm…sorry."

"It doesn't matter."

"Well, then…do you have-"

"Mr. Wright." She looked up at him now, completely serious. "I gave you a file with information. If you want to know about me, just read it. It'll tell you more than I will."

He stopped and stared at her, a little stunned. He hadn't expected a declaration of silence, nor the anger in her voice. He thought they'd almost been friends…or at least friendly.

But he'd been wrong about a lot of things.

The phone rang loudly, and he regained his attention.

"Hello?"

"Nick?" It was Maya! He couldn't believe it- Maya was actually speaking to him!

"Maya…"

"Look, I don't have time to talk to you. I need to speak to your apprentice."

He was stunned again, but numbly handed the phone to Kasanov.

"Mirabel Kasanov speaking…"

What could Maya possibly want with his apprentice? And more importantly, was she in danger?

"Yes, I am." She paused. "Someone you know?"

Endless, soul-shattering silence.

"Kurain Village?"

He strained to hear the voice on the other end.

"Yes…"

Kasanov glared at him and motioned for him to stop leaning over the desk.

"I understand."

He waited anxiously, on the verge of grabbing the phone.

"Nine o'clock. I'll see you then."

She hung up the phone.

He couldn't wait any longer. "What was that?!?"

Kasanov stood and began to calmly collect her papers with no regard to his concern.

"Please…tell me."

"There was a murder. Someone she knows is on trial," she said simply.

"M-Murder?? Is she alright?"

"Obviously, Mr. Wright. She called you."

"Yeah, but-"

"We'll be investigating tomorrow."

"I-"

"The only thing you can do for her is to be ready, Mr. Wright."

She gave him a curt nod, then walked out the door as though everything was completely and entirely alright.

* * *

You read it! So REVIEW it! I need three reviews before I will post!


	8. Kryptonite

It was a quiet, rainy morning, and oddly enough, his apprentice was running late. The office was completely devoid of either the mysterious and somewhat frightening attorney or the cheerful, haphazardous eleven-year-old. He felt alone and a bit chilled, still unsure of the situation with Maya.

And Kasanov was late. Maybe she had only been there for a few days, but she had seemed like a very punctual person the entire time. He wondered if he was dreaming again.

He sat at the desk, eyes flitting over the papers until he noticed the folder. It was the one Kasanov had given him when they'd first met, the one she'd told him to read if he ever wanted to know anything.

But really, the folder wasn't very full. There was a birth certificate and a passport copy, the usual. But there was nothing that could make up for a life. He supposed he could understand though- **he **never said much about his life before the incident, so why should she tell him anything? Still, it would have been nice to know a little more about her. Just enough to have something to talk about.

Under the folder was the book she had been reading- 'progression of courtroom procedure something'- which seemed to be his, though he had never given it a real look before now. In the one glance he'd had, he remembered seeing something out-of-the-ordinary, but could see nothing of what he'd glimpsed on the cover. It must have been just an illusion, though he still couldn't shake the funny feeling he had.

The outline of a photograph peeked out from beneath the textbook and he pulled it out, stifling a breath. It was a picture he had hidden deep in the State vs. Hawthorne trial, his last normal case. The scene was Trés Bien, and it was a shot of nearly everyone involved with the investigation, all smiling at a case closed. It took a moment to adjust- he hadn't seen a real smile from any of them in years.

"Reminiscing, Mr. Wright?"

He looked up and screamed. Franziska put a finger to her lips, shushing him.

"Not so loud. You'll wake up everyone in the district..."

"What the hellare **you **doing here?!?" He shouted, regaining his train of thought.

She smirked at his astonishment. "Do you mean me as in your conscious taking human form? Or the actual Franziska von Karma?"

"Both! Either! It doesn't matter! Why are you here??"

"That's not a very nice thing to say, Mr. Wright. You simply have no manners at all…"

"Look who's talking!"

She laughed evilly. "Enough about me, that isn't why I came. I'm here to tell you what you're thinking in your foolish little mind."

"Yes. Great. That's **exactly **what I need."

"Why are you so sure it isn't, Mr. Wright?"

He sighed. "Fine. Go on."

"You are thinking about starting a real, full-fledged investigation into the forged evidence. And you are thinking about asking Miles Edgeworth for help."

"Why would I do that?? He thinks absolutely, one-hundred percent that I did it!"

"And why is that?"

"How should I know!?"

She frowned. "Isn't it because you won't tell him what happened?"

"Maybe…but-"

"He also seemed unusually dark about something…don't you wonder what's bothering him?"

Actually…Phoenix **had **noticed something different about the prosecutor. He was acting unnaturally cold, even if he was angry about the forged evidence.

"I…guess…"

"You should make an effort, Mr. Wright. No one is just going to spontaneously share everything on their minds."

"What makes you so sure they **won't, **Franziska?"

She began to smirk again. "Clever, but you fail to see the point. If you want help, it is your responsibility to ask for it."

"Does that include…Mirabel Kasanov?"

She folded her arms and leaned back in the chair, considering.

"…If I were you, and I suppose I **am **you-"

"Great. Because I have **always **wanted to be exactly the same as Franziska von Karma-"

"Let me finish." She snapped, glaring at him. "…I would find out a little more about this person before I dumped all of my problems on them. You need to be certain you can trust her."

"You make me sound…suspicious."

"I believe you are. And if you aren't, you should be." A key turned in the door and Franziska stood. "That's my cue to leave."

"What? But you-"

"Goodbye, Mr. Wright."

She walked out of his peripheral vision and disappeared completely.

When he had gotten over the initial shock, he looked up to see Kasanov waiting rather impatiently by the door for him to get his act together.

"From your reaction yesterday, I expected you to be standing in the parking lot, telling me not to stop the car when you got in…"

She seemed to be a little less upset than yesterday, and he realized he hadn't spent a moment wondering what could have possibly caused such behavior. It had started a bit after court, maybe about the time they had encountered a certain prosecutor in the halls and had a mostly monosyllabic, extremely awkward conversation. He supposed Edgeworth had probably made quite a few people burst into tears or want to punch someone in his time on earth, but even such a factor was probably not enough to turn a complete stranger into a block of ice. No, it had to be something else.

"Are you planning on coming, Mr. Wright?"

"What? Oh…yes, of course."

As they drove, he reflected briefly on what Franziska von Karma- or at least a proxy of himself who looked and acted like Franziska von Karma- had informed him.

"_**You need to be certain you can trust her."**_

He wasn't sure what exactly was so suspicious about Kasanov though, except for the lack of information on her past and her silence regarding anything about herself. Otherwise, she was simply a novice attorney who happened to be very good despite her extreme lack of experience.

And there was nothing really suspicious about that.

--

"Are you looking for someone?"

They were standing at the bus station, looking for some clue as to where to go when there was a voice behind them. Phoenix spun around, startled, and Kasanov turned too, more calmly.

He recognized her instantly- it was a young girl, maybe twelve, with shoulder-length brown hair and gray eyes. She jumped at the sight of them, then looked as though she were about to turn around and run away at top speed.

"Pearls?"

"Mr. Nick! Why are you here?!" She looked awfully menacing for someone normally so innocent, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not having seen or spoken to her in three years. He had never come back to Kurain Village.

"I...heard…something happened?"

"We don't need your help! And you!" she pointed at Kasanov, "Aren't you that mean lady?!"

"What is she talking about, Mr. Wright?" His apprentice was looking at him with a mixture of anger and confusion.

"W-Well even if you're not, I still don't want to see you! And I'm not supposed to talk to strangers! Go away!"

Then she turned and sped off like it was the last place in the world she wanted to be.

"Mr. Wright…? Would you mind explaining what exactly that was about?" Kasanov glared at him.

"She's um…Pearl Fey. A spirit medium. She's Maya Fey's cousin…"

"That's…I don't care. Why did she call me 'that mean lady'?"

This was not going to be fun to explain. "Uh…don't worry about it…she must have been expecting someone else…"

She frowned. "All the same…she doesn't seem to like you very much."

"I…guess not."

He resisted the urge to go chasing after the piece of his former life. There was no glue in the world that could hold everything together.

--

"Mr. Wright! Miss uh…Kasanov!"

The scruffy-looking detective bumbled up to them, gasping for breath. Phoenix couldn't tell if he was excited or concerned, and frankly, anything out of the ordinary made him nervous.

"Something wrong, Detective Gum-" He stopped at the sight of another person approaching them. "Maya?"

The master ignored him and turned to his apprentice.

"You…you're Mirabel Kasanov?"  
"Yes. Yes I am."

They shook hands formally.

"You told me that the client is a somewhat friend of yours…why is she being suspected of murder?"

Maya and Kasanov began to walk towards the crime scene, discussing the logistics of what had happened. He stood, staring, unable to believe that Maya's attitude towards him could have changed so much in a matter of days.

"She mad at you, pal?"

"Isn't everyone?"

"Oh…yeah…" the detective scratched his head. "Sorry to have to break the news- Mr. Edgeworth's the prosecutor."

"I had a feeling."

On the dim sort of bright side, Kasanov might be a bit happy about that.

"You know…Mr. Edgeworth's had a pretty tough time of it the past few years too…you might want to cut him a little slack…"

"Huh?"

"Just saying, Mr. Wright. You two should talk this out."

"Whatever you say, Detective."

Him talking it out with Edgeworth. Like that could ever happen.

--

"So…you have known the defendant for a few years?"

"Yeah, basically."

She hadn't expected Mirabel Kasanov to be so formal- honestly, she'd thought Nick would attract the type of a apprentice a little more like him. This woman was far too precise- and perhaps not friendly enough- to fit in with the crowd. Of course, there was hardly a crowd anymore, with scarcely anyone speaking to each other and the investigation going nowhere rather quickly. The courtroom had tied them together, and without it, they were growing apart.

She felt bad for Nick, of course- being set up and forced to deal with the consequences of someone else's actions- but loss was a large factor in her life, and the lives of other people she respected, and so she found it hard to compare a person to a career. And really, nothing she ever did could make him any happier, so it was difficult to see the point of consoling him. She could never seem to help Mr. Edgeworth either, and felt rather useless in the grand scheme of things. Every so often she would work alone to try unraveling the problems, but her results didn't get her anywhere at all- adding significantly to her helplessness. The only thing that could solve troubles was closure, but she couldn't seem to get her hands on any of that. It didn't come cheap.

Sometimes it felt she had to choose who to listen to. It made her sad to see how two members of what seemed a once-quite-powerful group could barely stand to speak to each other. But the detective never had to choose anyone to side with- he listened to both of them unconditionally- and so she should have been able to do that too. But it remained difficult to get her priorities straight. She-

"Miss Fey?"

She left the stream of consciousness to notice Kasanov staring at her sharply. Her eyes were an unnatural dark blue and very exact, enough to cut through the deepest daydream. Maya had noted that people with eyes like that usually made her nervous. Kasanov was no exception.

"Oh. Yeah…um…I think she's a journalist or something- or maybe just interested in the technique…I think she's had a channeling done once or twice, but mostly she just helps out wherever we need her…"

"And other than that, you don't know very much about her?"

"Not really, no."

"I see…"

Kasanov was silent for a little while, glancing about the crime scene. Then out of nowhere, she spoke.

"By any chance, do you know who the prosecutor is?"

"It's Mr. Edgeworth. He-"

"I already know about him. We…met yesterday in the courthouse."

"I see…"

"He seemed upset." Kasanov remarked.

"He has a lot to deal with." Maya said simply.

The attorney nodded and walked away.

On the topic of Mr. Edgeworth, she hadn't seen him around the crime scene in the recent hours…perhaps she wasn't paying enough attention.

But with him, you never quite knew where he was or what he was thinking.

_--_

"_Miles Edgeworth, this is NOT fair!"  
She stood at the doorway of his room with glaring eyes and whip in hand. Franziska von Karma was thirteen, still a bit short for her age, and sporting a recently acquired, extremely shiny prosecutor's badge. No matter what she was wearing, she would pin it to her shirt collar and expect everyone to notice it. To be honest, he was rather excited himself about being certified, but not nearly as much as her. He supposed it was different for teenage girls who felt as though they were thoroughly ignored and desperate for a shred of attention. She had been nice to him for about five days, on account of them now technically being the same rank, but her opinion had changed drastically when she discovered 'the news'. _

"_Don't just sit there!! Explain yourself!!"_

"_Explain __**what, **__Franziska…?" He tried his hardest not to let her know that his going to America was a big deal. She would wonder why. The reason was mostly what he was going into and a bit of what he was leaving behind._

"_This is NOT fair!!"_

"_You already said that."_

"_Don't patronize me! I…this…it's not fair at all!"_

"_Please elaborate."_

"_**You elaborate!"**_

_She was far too angry to explain anything- he could see some sort of jealous rage burning in her eyes. He had never, not in eleven years, seen her act like this. She had never been this angry._

_What on earth was going on?_

"_Is this about my going to America?"_

"_Of course it is, you foolish fool! You…you're going away to America! That means that I…I have to…stay here and Papa's always going to America…he likes it better there and now you get to go to America and be a perfect prosecutor and I have to stay here and be left behind…"_

_She was shaking, and for a minute he thought she was crying. But there were no tears. _

"_Franziska…" He had come into the habit of mumbling her name when he couldn't think of anything to say._

"_Don't you 'Franziska…' me!! Explain why you somehow think you are so much better than I am!"_

_Why was she blaming him? He hadn't done anything wrong!_

"_What are you talking about?? I haven't…I didn't…"_

"_Let me explain one little thing to you, Miles Edgeworth! You are __**not **__better than me! You never will be! So you can stop pretending to a von Karma and go __**away!**__" _

_He had never really felt like a von Karma at all…there was no way he could, with such a terrible event on his conscious- he could never feel 'perfect'. And he had seen how Manfred von Karma treated the rest of the world…he didn't ever want to be like __**that. **_

"_Calm down…I -"_

"_Don't tell me what to do!! I don't care __**what **__you have to say, just stop being my father's perfect student and give __**me **__a chance! You spoiled, foolish…" She couldn't talk anymore. Her face was red and her fists were clenched around the whip. He had the vaguest worry that she was going to murder him right then and there._

"_Just take a second to think this out...don't you want to stay in Germany?"_

"_No, you foolish fool! Why would I want that!? I'm supposed to be the one who goes to America and prosecutes just like Papa!"_

"_You're not old enough to live by yourself-"_

"_Yes, I __**am! **__Don't you __**ever **__tell me what I can't do!"_

"_Franziska, I-"_

"_And don't pretend you don't __**like **__getting all the attention! Because you do! You must- after you kill off your own foolish father, you get rewarded! You must be so __**hap-"**_

_That was the last straw. He stood and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her silent. He was quite a bit taller than her, and when he glared, he saw an expression of fear come over her face. _

"_Don't you __**ever **__talk about my father like that. Look, just __**accept **__the fact that you're staying here and stop __**blaming **__me for every little bad thing in your life. I thought you were better than that."_

_She bit her lip hard, and he couldn't tell if she was about to burst into tears or start screaming._

"_If that's the way you want to play then __**fine, **__Miles Edgeworth. I'll just go away and make your life __**easier.**__"_

_She flung her whip to the ground and stomped off. _

_Twenty seconds later, he heard the main door to the manor open and slam shut._

_--_

_He spent ten minutes wondering if he'd been out-of-line and if she was completely right about him being happy about the attention. Honestly, he almost hated Manfred von Karma by now, and he wasn't getting along any better with Franziska- but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy being the star pupil. Maybe he was secretly thrilled to be given attention and to feel as though he were 'better' than someone else. Maybe he loved that feeling._

_But he didn't think so. He had killed his father. He couldn't be happy about anything again. Not even after eleven years._

_I was as though he had a wound over his heart, and every day it would start to heal, start to get better. And every night he would have a nightmare and someone would come in and rip the wound open again. Sometimes it was even worse than before._

_So no, he didn't think anything could possibly dull the pain. Especially not being constantly yelled at and blamed by Franziska von Karma._

_After eleven years, he had to admit they had always seemed to be on opposing sides. He was always the enemy, always fighting to destroy her life. She seemed to hate him so much he wondered if anyone would ever like him again. He always expected her to just pick up that whip she carried and beat him senseless…she never did. She was completely unable to hurt him physically. But that didn't stop her from throwing all the mental ammunition she could in his direction._

_He didn't quite know what to think of her. On the one hand, he was tired of taking the blame for the problems in her life and tired of the way she wanted to be exactly like the cruel man who was her father. But on the other hand, he always felt as though they should be friends. He had been here for eleven years…he shouldn't be still fighting with her- not when the common enemy was Manfred von Karma. _

_But every time he felt the slightest inclination to be nice to her, she would come in and yell at him again. _

_So they couldn't really be friends at all. _

_For some reason though, he had always tried to protect her. He tried to redirect the anger of others around her, he tried to stop her from being emotionally scarred by the life-or-death policies of the house. He told her to stop fighting before she hit the breaking point- or at least he made an attempt._

_But he never got through to her. She didn't want any protection. Like she had always said before, she just wanted him to go away and leave her alone._

_And now that was going to happen. She would never have to see him ever again if she didn't want to. _

_He felt a rush of anger…the desire to bring the hammer of retribution down on Franziska's head. Why did she always blame him for everything? It wasn't fair. He shouldn't have to take her words. He shouldn't have to protect her anymore._

_**You left me in the line of fire**_

_**You said love was the biggest liar…**_

_And all of the sudden, he felt terribly ill. He hadn't heard that song…in six years._

_**I saw silver in the sky today**_

_**Leave me; you still have time to run…**_

_Just as he suspected- it was coming from his phone._

_**I saw shadows leaving vapor trails**_

_**Leave me in the midnight sun…**_

_And it could only mean one thing- Franziska von Karma was in trouble. Most likely…trouble with __**her.**_

_But hadn't he just been saying how he shouldn't have to protect her anymore? She wasn't his responsibility- and she never even had the courtesy to thank him when he did protect her. He didn't have to save her. She was the one who wanted to be left alone. She should be taking care of __**herself. **_

_And if she didn't…? She could be brutally murdered for all he cared._

_--_

_He flung the door shut on his way out, the whip clutched tightly in his right hand. The cell phone had been silenced, and he was following the blinking red dot to the outskirts of the estate. It was a cold day- he didn't see what had possibly possessed Franziska to run away today of all days._

_Oh. Right. It had been him._

_She was just on the edge of the property- he could see the blue of her hair behind a tree. It was a scene that reminded him eerily of the day six years previously, the last time something like this had happened. The tracking system had seemed like such a useless device…now it was the reason he ran as fast as he could across the grass, only slowing to assess the situation when he was about to run straight into it._

_Alicia Foster. There she was, six years older, standing across from Franziska von Karma in a perfect mirror image of the day of the funeral. The anger in her eyes was exactly the same. _

"…_I've been waiting for this day."_

"_Get away! Get away from me!"_

"_I've been waiting…for so long…I've been planning exactly what I would do…"_

_Alicia's fingers were gripped around Franziska's wrist, holding her in place._

"_It's not my fault!"_

_Rage flared in the woman's eyes. _

"_Why do you always claim your innocence?? You know what you did. You know that you hid behind her."_

"_No, I didn't!"_

_Her grip became impossible tighter. "Yes. You __**did.**__"_

"_Killing me won't bring your sister back!"_

_Franziska had pulled the very last straw. He stood for a moment in shocked silence- Alicia's other hand grabbed the thirteen-year-old's neck. She was being strangled. Exactly like before._

_Why was he just standing there??_

_***Crack***_

_And suddenly, there was red slash of blood across Alicia Foster's arm. And a second. And a third._

_He came out of the trees now, barely in control of his body. The leather sliced hard and repeatedly until she released her grip and raised her hands in surrender, backing into the forest. He kept striking because…he wasn't even sure why- the whip felt natural in his hands…like it was helping him to lose the anger he'd built of over the years. Toward himself…for what he'd done. Holding it…hurting someone…made him forget everything._

_No wonder Franziska carried it everywhere._

"_Miles…" She breathed when Alicia had disappeared into the trees. The fear remained on her face- but now he couldn't tell if it was from before…or from seeing his expression now. _

_He felt it too. On his face was a sick, sadistic grin._

"_Here." He handed the whip back to her, adrenaline still zooming through his veins. All his fear…all his anger was gone now- he only felt this awful happiness. It was worsened by Franziska's frightened expression. He felt…powerful._

_What was wrong with him?? He shouldn't be getting satisfaction from the pain of others-he never had before…_

_It was as though using the whip had given him all the feelings Franziska von Karma had put into it. _

_And he was suddenly stricken with sickness. Was this how she felt when she struck another person?_

"_Miles? Are you…?"_

"_I-I'm fine…just give me a s-second…"_

_He closed his eyes and returned to the person he used to be._

_It was only when he had finally caught his breath that he began to wonder what exactly had happened. It was like tuning in to the middle of the story, with barely any knowledge of the beginning and no predictions whatsoever for the ending. Franziska seemed a bit confused herself, though having known her for eleven years, he was certain she either had an explanation or could invent one in the next minute. _

"_That was Alicia Foster." She explained. Perhaps she was still angry at him, because she spoke as though he were a clueless five-year-old. _

"_I'm aware. What was she doing here?"_

"_Use your brain, Miles Edgeworth. What did it __**look **__like she was doing here?"_

"_I don't know…asking if you would care to join her for some tea?" Fighting sarcasm with sarcasm was his specialty. _

"_Do not speak to me with that tone." The prosecutor cracked her whip on the ground._

"_I just saved your life, Franziska. You could be a little more grateful."_

_She froze, looked down, and tried to regain the ground she had just lost._

"_W-well…that's…whatever."_

"_**Whatever? **__I could have left you here to __**die.**__"_

"_Fine. Th-thank you. But we have more pressing matters to deal with."_

"_Yes we do." He resisted the urge to fling his cell phone at her, instead simply holding it out. "Right now, for example. You are going to call that officer from six years ago and tell her exactly what just happened."_

_Her eyes widened sharply. "__**What?!"**_

"_You heard me."_

"_And I __**refuse!**__ Miles Edgeworth, you know better than to ask me to do such a thing!!"_

"_I'm not __**asking**__, Franziska von Karma."_

"_**Excuse you?!"**_

"_Call her. Now."_

_Rage filled her eyes. "And if I don't? Are you going to 'accidently' shoot me??"_

_He cringed. She had gone too far. The gloves were definitely off. _

"_No. I'm…"_

"_You're __**what?"**_

"_I'm going to tell your father. __**Everything."**_

_And suddenly, he had the upper hand._

_--_

"Reminiscing, Mr. Wright?"

He screamed a moment before he looked up and realized nothing was wrong. It was only Kasanov at the desk, surrounded by old case files, watching him stare at the picture he had found that morning.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I…"

It was mere coincidence that she had said the same thing as the illusion that morning. He was only being jumpy.

"Could you please not stare at me like that? It's disturbing."

"Oh…s-sorry…"

He put the troublesome picture down and moved toward the desk, to see that the files were every case that involved Edgeworth.

"…Can we say obsessed?"

"You were the first person to ever defeat him. I need to see what your strategy was."

"Oh. Um…yeah."

"Any suggestions?"

"Err…just do what you did yesterday? I mean…you're pretty good at predicting the prosecution's strategy…" He was babbling now, having completely forgotten what it was like to be a defense attorney. "…Maybe you should have been a prosecutor instead…"

"Are you certain of that, Mr. Wright?"

"Well, I-"

"It is much easier to expose the truth than to hide it. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes." He was hiding the truth right now. Or at least, what he believed was the truth.

"_**You are thinking about starting a real, full-fledged investigation into the forged evidence. And you are thinking about asking Miles Edgeworth for help."**_

That reminded him of something…

"_**He also seemed unusually dark about something…don't you wonder what's bothering him?"**_

"Um..." He tried to think of a way to ask that wouldn't sound strange. "Yesterday, did you not-"

"You barely answered my question as to what I should do about Mr. Edgeworth."

"Oh…well…just…look for the truth."

"You don't have anything to warn me about?"

Somehow, he managed to laugh.

"What is so funny, Mr. Wright?"

"If you **do **beat him, Franziska von Karma will probably come after you…"

"Come…after me?"

"So she can beat you to a pulp. Most likely with her whip." He laughed again.

"What exactly are you implying?"

"Franziska…just doesn't really get it yet."

"I…see."

She took her papers and started for the door without so much as another word. She was leaving him alone…to _wonder_.

"_**He also seemed unusually dark about something…don't you wonder what's bothering him?"**_


	9. The Truth

I don't own the characters used in this fic.

* * *

The courthouse was quiet that day, and infinitely less crowded than it had been at the last trial- it probably had something to do with the fact that **this **prosecutor wasn't a rockstar, nor did he have a zillion teenage girls following his every move. But even without constant glares from obsessed fans, the air was still tense enough to snap in half. No one had spoken a word since they had arrived.

There were five people in the room, including himself. A bailiff stood in perfect attention by the door, though completely unaware of the deafening silence. Kasanov was scribbling notes into a file of some sort, and the defendant, Katrina Erilland, was staring at the clock. He stood uncomfortably in the center of the room, waiting for a pin to drop or a bomb to explode.

And Maya. She sat on the couch, dressed in her usual training clothes and looking completely lost in thought. She hadn't made eye contact with him even once since he'd entered the room.

The clock ticked. Kasanov's pen scribbled across the paper. The bailiff fiddled with his gun.

He wondered if it was anywhere near as tense in the prosecutor's lobby…

"Hey, everybody!"

Detective Gumshoe burst through the door with a huge grin and a ramen noodle sticker stuck to his coat, breaking the silence with no hesitation at all. Everyone stared at the intruder.

"Whoops, did I interrupt something?"

There was a dead silence.

"Oh, well I'll come back later then!" Just as he was about to bumble happily out the door, someone spoke.

"Wait." Maya had finally acknowledged the real world. "What is it, Detective Gumshoe?"

"I've got a message for Miss Kasanov!"

The attorney stopped writing. "From who?"

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Kasanov's eyes widened a bit. "He wishes you luck!"

"Well…" she picked up the pen and returned to her notes. "You can tell him that if he's not giving me any tickets to see his rock band perform, I'm not interested in his wishes."

"Um…I don't think Mr. Edgeworth has a band, sir!"

"That was a joke, Detective. It was meant to be funny."

"Oh…" Gumshoe laughed weakly, "Well, I'll see you all in the trial then!" He made a fast exit and left the silence to settle over the room just as it had before.

The clock ticked, and the former attorney found himself completely incapable of speaking. He should have been talking to Maya, apologizing…but he couldn't even open his mouth or find the words. The room was filling with bad feelings, and he had forgotten how to swim.

"It's time." Erilland said, startling everyone.

By the time he had glanced at the clock and turned back around, Maya had already disappeared to the audience box. He had been too much of a coward to talk to her, and now she was gone.

"Are you coming?" Kasanov was holding the door impatiently for him.

"Huh? Oh…yeah."

--

Of course, the prosecution was already prepared and waiting when they took their places- he looked almost exactly the same as the last time Phoenix had faced him in court, four years before. His face gave away no hint of emotion, no hint of being in the least bit human.

He glanced at Kasanov to see she was watching the prosecutor closely, practically smirking.

"What's so funny?"

She didn't respond.

"Um…Miss Kasa-"

The judge banged his gavel loudly, hushing the audience remarkably better than the last trial. Of course, said audience was much, much smaller.

"This court will now come to order. Are the defense and prosecution rea- Mr. Wright?"

"Yes, your honor?"

"You again?" The judge looked a bit upset.

"…Yes, your honor."

"Are you **sure** you're not trying to defend?"

"Um…I'm su-" He was cut off.

"Your honor, the prosecution has no objections to the defense aid." Edgeworth said, glaring at the former attorney. "We would like to begin the trial."

"Oh! Well! In that case…"

--

At that point, he stopped paying attention to the trial. He had not thought of a single possibility yesterday for the prosecutor's strange behavior, and it was starting to bother him.

His first thought was that it was his own fault- after all, he had never explained his side of the story to Edgeworth. It was only natural that he would be guilty until proven innocent… a prosecutor's job was to doubt people.

But somehow, that didn't seem quite right. He had run into Edgeworth in the police department too, and though he had seemed a little cold, it wasn't the same at all.

Was it Kasanov? No, she was a complete stranger- it couldn't possibly have been her, even if she was a bit scary. Besides, Edgeworth was the one who made people nervous, not the other way around.

So what could it possibly be?

"**You know…Mr. Edgeworth's had a pretty tough time of it the past few years too…you might want to cut him a little slack…"**

He had almost forgotten the detective's words, but even remembering them, he still had no idea what they could possibly mean. Had there been more rumors circulating about him? That would make sense, but…

"Mr. Wright."

He was jolted back into reality.

"The trial has been suspended until tomorrow." Kasanov was holding her file and a notebook of some kind, waiting for him to fully come out of his trance. The courtroom was quickly clearing of people.

"Oh. Sorry…"

"I'm going to the detention center to speak with the client. If you hurry, you can talk to your friend before she leaves."

"Wha…?" How could she possibly-?

"Don't play dumb, Mr. Wright. You've been staring at her this entire morning. I'll be fine on my own." The attorney then hurried off before he could stop her. She wasn't going to let him be a coward anymore.

Maya was still in the defendant's lobby by the time he got out, and her head rose when she saw him. She didn't look angry…but then again, she didn't look completely overjoyed either.

"Nick."

"H-hi…Maya…"

"We need to talk." She said bluntly.

"Listen, you were right. I haven't been-" Maya cut him off.

"I get it, Nick. You're sorry. That's not why I want to talk."

He stood in stunned silence for a moment. What on earth was going on?

"I just…I want to know the truth. You never tell me anything, and it makes me feel like you don't think I can handle the truth. Like I need someone to protect me." She seemed to have been preparing this little speech for a while…

"Maya, you know I don't-"

"And I want to help. I want to help Mr. Edgeworth, but he won't let me, and when I try to help you…it's like you don't appreciate me, Nick! If you just told me the truth, I could find out who did this to you…but you think I'm useless! You think I couldn't possibly figure anything out! Like I'm just your helpless little sidekick you keep around because you're too nice to tell me to go away!"

He felt as though someone had stabbed him with a knife. And then pulled the blade out and stabbed him again even harder.

"Are you listening to me?" Her voice had suddenly turned quiet, and he could see she was on the brink of tears.

He couldn't formulate a single word, so he nodded solemnly.

"…I thought you cared about me. I thought you cared enough to tell me the truth."

She was twisting the knife.

"I was wrong. You don't care."

Why couldn't he speak? Why was he just standing there, letting her think all of these things were true?

"Tell me to go away, Nick. Tell me you think I'm helpless and I can't handle the truth."

"M-Maya…" Was all he could manage to choke out.

"If you don't want to hurt my feelings, just tell me to go away. Then I won't have to feel bad anymore."

She tried to look impatient, but her eyes were watering too much.

"Tell me!"

"No!" He could suddenly speak again, if only shakily. "I…I wanted to tell you the truth, but I…didn't think you would believe me-"

"You didn't think I would believe you!? Come on, Nick! How well do you know me!?"

"I'm sorry. I should have trusted you."

A tear ran down her cheek. "Then why didn't you…?"

"I-I thought that…everyone had turned against me…" He was starting to fall apart. "I didn't want you to-"

"I would have believed you! I always believe you! Doesn't that count for anything!?"

"Y-yes. Of course it does." If only he could keep himself together for a little longer…

"Well…do you trust me now?"

He nodded.

"Then tell me the truth."

Why was it so much easier to tell someone he barely knew then someone he cared so much about? Did he think she was going to be…disappointed in him?

"I gave up, Maya."

"What?" She said it like what he had stated couldn't possibly be true. The Phoenix Wright **she **knew did not give up. Even when there wasn't a shred of hope left.

"Someone wanted me gone. The evidence was a trap, and I got caught."

"How is that 'giving up'?"

"I didn't even fight back. I just…accepted my fate." He couldn't bear to look at her- he didn't want to see the look on her face.

"Why?" She asked softly.

Why? Why had he given up? He hadn't even thought of that…

"I think I…at the time, I knew it was my fault. I'd fallen for an obvious trap. I didn't deserve a chance to explain myself."

There was a long silence.

"You're stubborn, Nick."

"Huh?" He looked up. Maya had a smile on her face. She was actually smiling…after everything he had just told her.

"Really. You and Mr. Edgeworth are just alike. You both blame yourselves for things that aren't your fault, and then when people try to help you, you say you don't **deserve **the help. Well, I don't **deserve **to have to listen to that. If I want to help you, I'm going to."

"Wha?" He couldn't even finish the word.

"You two need to talk to each other for once. I mean, everyone's so angry- I can't stand it! I don't want to choose sides, but I feel like I have to! I-"

"I'll talk to him, Maya." If he had known that this bothered her so much…

"…Do you promise?"

"Yeah." Did this mean she wasn't angry at him anymore? That everything was okay again? "Hey…just out of curiosity, how is everyone?"

"If you mean Mr. Edgeworth, you can ask him yourself…" Her tone was still a little sharp, but infinitely better than…before.

"Oh. No, I meant like…Franziska von Karma?"

Maya looked startled for a moment, then shook her head. "I have no idea. It's not like we speak to each other very often. She could have gone back to wherever she came from for all I know."

"Oh. Well…okay then."

"But really, Nick. Make sure you talk to him. Before any more damage can be done."

And then she walked away, leaving him confused but relieved, and with a mandatory task he did **not **want to complete.

But if he didn't want to see that anger in her face again, he would do it.

--

She had finally gotten what she wanted- the truth. After a three year delay, she had finally heard the story from his perspective.

It surprised her, frankly. To start with, she couldn't believe that Nick had actually…given up. Why, if he had given up like that in the past…she would be dead many times over. The innocent would be incarcerated and the guilty would go free. So many mysteries would be left hopelessly unresolved.

But Nick **didn't **give up. Not ever. He always managed to turn the tables and save the day. How could that have changed? Or more importantly, **who **could have changed it?

The second thing that surprised her- he wasn't the type to blame himself for something clearly not his fault. He took responsibility for her well-being, of course, but…blaming himself for falling into someone's trap? She would have to know more of the details, but that didn't sound like him at all.

The previous day, she hadn't wanted to speak to him at all- she didn't want to hear him apologize over and over again, on the one hand because she might forgive him too easily, and on the other hand because he still did not really understand why she was mad. But…for some reason, she had spent most of last night memorizing exactly what she wanted to say. The kind of speech that would only present two options. A question that could not be ignored or avoided.

And he had told her the truth. Finally, he trusted her enough to tell her.

But that was not the only thing she wanted. It was like this: she wanted him to be aware of reality. For three years, he had been caught up in his little world of pain and sadness, believing he was entirely alone, and not paying a shred of attention to the lives of other people she had thought he cared about. And she wanted to yank him out of that world before this got any farther.

Just as she suspected, Mirabel Kasanov was helping quite a bit. She had forced him to acknowledge the people he used to know, had forced him to return to the courtroom and come to terms with what had happened. And she couldn't have had better timing- just when Maya was starting to feel thoroughly incapable of cheering him up. The attorney seemed to have already caused a change in his behavior. And if only he would actually have a conversation with Mr. Edgeworth…that would knock him back into reality.

And speaking of which...she didn't **deserve **to have her help so bluntly denied. If she wanted to help, she was going to.

She pulled out her phone and dialed the number before she could even think about changing her mind.

"Hello?"  
"Mr. Edgeworth? Can I talk to you for a minute?" She tried not to sound too anxious.

There was a short silence, and she had the feeling he knew what she was going to say.

"Alright."

"I want to help, okay? With the-"

"That won't be necessary." His voice was cold enough to freeze the phone.

"Look, I know you don't believe I can do anything, but I-"

"I don't want to talk about this, Miss Fey." She was just now remembering why it was so difficult to argue with him…

"But I found out something-"

"I'm going to hang up now. This conversation isn't necess-" She interrupted him before he could end the call.

"I told Nick."

It was silent for five seconds, and she thought maybe she had been too late.

"What?" She braced herself for the worst, but he didn't say anything more.

"I told him that he should talk to you. That he should explain what happened."

"Oh." The prosecutor sounded noticeably relieved.

"But…aren't you the one who always says that the truth can't be hidden forever? That eventually, no matter how hard you might try to hide it, it always manages to get out?"

"…Yes."

"Well, you're right. It does. And it will."

"What exactly do you mean by that, Miss F-"

"I'll talk to you later then."

She hung up before he had a chance to respond, feeling completely satisfied. Maybe her help still wasn't appreciated, but he had gotten the message, just as Nick had. And being able to finally speak her mind about something was a good feeling, like a step towards solving everything…or at least going in the right direction.

She was going to fix all of these problems once and for all.

--

"Mr. Wright!"

Just as he was about to go wait in the parking lot for Kasanov, there was a familiar voice behind him.

"Detective Gumshoe." He turned to face the officer.

"Why so gloomy, pal? Your apprentice got the trial an extra day!"

"Yeah." He wasn't in the mood to speak to someone so ridiculously cheerful.

"I think she spooked Mr. Edgeworth a little bit, too! I mean, she didn't fall in any of those trap things!"

"Oh."

The detective laughed awkwardly for a moment, then became suddenly serious. "You seemed kind of spaced out during the trial, Mr. Wright."

He said nothing.

"Uh, are you okay?"

He wasn't. Not even one bit. "I'm fine." He said, Gumshoe looking at him doubtfully.

And then he froze. The door had opened, and someone had entered.

"O-Oh, uh…hi?"

The detective looked around. "Who are you talking to, pal?"

"You don't-" he stopped himself, realizing what was happening. "Nevermind. It was just a shadow."

"So I am just a shadow now, Mr. Phoenix Wright?"

He tried his best to glare at the empty space without attracting attention. Why was **she **here?

Franziska smirked. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Scruffy McTrenchcoat… this is perfect timing."

He coughed loudly, trying to shake the illusion off.

"If I'm not mistaken, there is something that you should be asking him…" she looked at him expectantly.

"So…Detective Gumshoe?"

"Yeah?"

"Um…has anything interesting happened? Like…over the past few years?"

"Oh…well, lots of stuff…" Gumshoe trailed off.

"You could be a bit more specific." Franziska snapped at him. Or at least, it must have been him, since the detective couldn't hear her.

"Um, have there been any more rumors? About Edgeworth, I mean…"

"Not that I can think of, pal. But you might want to ask him yourself."

The prosecutor sighed. "Well, we won't be getting any valuable information from **him, **it seems. So you can say goodbye now."

"I'll see you later then, Detective Gumshoe…"

"Huh? Oh, okay." Mr. 'Scruffy McTrenchcoat' exited the room without a clue as to what had happened, though noticeably confused at the ex-attorney's strange behavior.

The door closed.

"Why are you here!? Again!" He hoped no one else could hear this one-sided conversation.

"There were questions that needed to be asked, Mr. Wright. And since you weren't taking the hint…"

"You don't even exist!"

"Let me finish. Scruffy hasn't told you anything of importance, which leaves only one option."

He covered his ears. "I'm not hearing anything…"

"Talk to Miles Edgeworth."

Why was everyone giving him exactly the same advice?

"Because it is important, Mr. Phoenix Wright. If you want to learn the truth, you must go directly to the source."

And then she disappeared, leaving him more confused than ever.

_--_

"…_What?" Her eyes were wider than ever, like it was the last possible thing she had expected him to say._

"_I'm going to tell your father about this."_

_Of course, it was completely an empty threat. There was no way he would __**ever **__dare to tell Manfred von Karma about what had been happening. First of all, he would demand to know why the incident hadn't been mentioned sooner, say, six years ago. And how had the previous incident even happened? Franziska had been instructed to study while the two of them were in America- she shouldn't have ever been to the lake, nor should she have left the house to attend some insignificant human being's funeral. After all, the only important thing was that she become a perfect prosecutor and carry on her father's legacy. And why had she been leaving the house today anyway? That was not allowed!_

_But she would not be the only one punished. Why had this boy who the famed prosecutor had gone out of his way to raise and teach told him nothing whatsoever of this incident? Why had he not scolded Franziska when she tried to run away and neglect her studies?_

_And that was why he would not even dream of telling his mentor everything. Luckily, the teenage prosecutor standing in front of him did not know this._

"_**What? **__No! You will not!"_

_He turned and began to walk toward the manor, but she grabbed his wrist._

"_Changed your mind, Franziska?"_

_She gritted her teeth. "F-Fine. I'll tell the officer…"_

_Honestly, he thought it would be much better to simply tell the police department in general, but this would do for now. He held out his cell phone._

"_No…I have to use the landline…Papa might check that. And I have my own cell phone, how do you think I contacted you?" Her voice had gotten quieter, and he could tell the shock of being almost strangled for the second time was catching up to her._

_So he stopped arguing and followed her inside._

_There was a phone on the first floor, and after assuring that her father was safely in his office, she called the police department number he had given her. The emotion of fear seemed permanently etched into her face, and he couldn't help but feel a little bad for her- though only a little. He climbed one of the many flights of stairs and returned to his desk, knowing he had more reading to get done._

_But he couldn't concentrate. There was something on the desk that made it impossible to focus._

_It was another phone. And if he were to pick it up, he would hear whatever conversation Franziska von Karma was having with that police officer. He would know everything that she probably would refuse to tell him._

_So he __**had **__to pick up the phone._

"_Is this Officer Madeline Duncan?"_

_There was a gasp. "Are you really Franziska von Karma? That little girl from six years ago?"_

_Evidently, Franziska had found the right person._

"_I'm thirteen now. That is not a 'little girl'. I am a certified prosecutor."_

"_And you're a prosecutor too!? At thirteen!?" The woman was shouting loudly enough to make him almost drop the phone._

"…_Yes. Yes I am."_

"_That's amazing…" A pause. "Are you calling for help on a case?"_

"_No, I…" She trailed off, and he had to resist the urge to explain things for her. _

"_Wait…did something bad happen? Like before?"_

_He could imagine her nodding and forgetting no one could see her. _

"_Yes."_

_Another gasp. "Are you alright?? What happened??"_

_There was a long pause, and then Franziska began to speak very quickly._

"_I was walking by some trees on the edge of the manor and all of the sudden I saw Alicia Foster. And she saw me and started talking about how she was waiting to take her revenge and then she tried to strangle me again. But I had called for help and-"_

"_You mean to that boy from earlier?"_

_He was surprised that the officer remembered him, though perhaps it was since he had been with a von Karma…_

"…_Yes. Miles Edgeworth. He succeeded in scaring her away." _

_She said it as though he had just said 'boo' and the woman had run the opposite direction…he had saved her life!_

"_So you don't know where she went?"_

"_I have no idea, though I can presume that she is still in the immediate area and will not be returning to the manor. Do you remember what she looks like?"_

"_Of course! How could I forget!?"_

_He decided that watching the seven-year-old daughter of one of the most famous prosecutors in the world be strangled must have been a very memorable image. The officer had probably never seen anything like it before, or even since._

"_Could you look out for her?"_

_It was a bit of a shock that Franziska was actually doing what he'd asked her to do instead of just faking a call. But maybe…she could tell that he was listening. Maybe the real reason she'd decided to use the landline was so that he would listen to the conversation…_

"_Oh, well actually…I can't. I'm being transferred to America. I leave in two days…you caught me just in time."_

_There was a silence. She was probably glaring at the phone, wondering why everyone got to go to America accept her._

"_You're…being transferred?"_

"_I was recruited by the FBI…and wait, I remember something strange from the information I got…"_

_There was the sound of the phone being set down and papers shuffling._

"_What do you think, Miles Edgeworth?" _

"_It's an unfortunate coincidence." He said without thinking, then realized she had spoken directly to him._

"_Hmph. I thought you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to eavesdrop on a private phone call."_

_He stayed silent, and Madeline Duncan picked up the other phone._

"_Well, I just found it. Turns out one of the people I'll be working with…it's Rachel Foster's twin sister."_

"_Oh." She sounded surprised, though at the same time a bit disappointed._

"_Isn't that a funny coincidence?"_

"_Absolutely hilarious." Her voice was layered with sarcasm._

"_I'm sorry I can't help you…do you want me to ask one of the other offi-"_

"_No! Don't!" She spoke sharply. "Don't tell anyone else!"_

"_Are you sure? I mean, someone else could look into it and-"_

"_Don't."_

"_Um…alright then. I can give you my phone number, though I don't think that would help…" The officer recited her number anyway, and he got the impression the call would be ending soon. He put the phone down and returned to the first floor._

"_Are you satisfied now?" She asked after hanging up the phone. "I talked to her."_

_He looked at her seriously. "Be careful, okay? You'll have to be looking out for yourself soon."_

_Franziska glared at him. "I've __**been **__looking out for myself for my entire life. Nothing is going to change when you leave. Nothing at all."_

_--_

He woke unstartled, having grown used to the visions of the past he always seemed to be dreaming now. They haunted his thoughts day and night.

Why? Why was he suddenly thinking of the past now? He had been trying to put it away, not to dwell on it any longer.

"_**Aren't you the one who always says that the truth can't be hidden forever? That eventually, no matter how hard you might try to hide it, it always manages to get out? Well, you're right. It does. And it will."**_

He had the feeling he knew exactly what Maya Fey meant by that.


	10. Running Out Of Time

Well, here's another chapter. Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I never will own the characters, so if I someday forget to put a disclaimer, don't sue me.

* * *

He looked at the phone again. It was blue and very ancient, the batteries held in by only a piece of tape. When it rang, the Steel Samurai theme song played, though he hadn't seen the show or thought much of it in a while. And as he sat at the desk, fingers hovering over the plastic, he knew there was no way he could do it. It had been difficult enough to explain the truth to Maya…and she was his best friend! She had always been there for him, and she didn't judge him either- or at least didn't speak her mind. She should have been easy to tell.

But since she was **not,** he could only assume that telling Edgeworth would be a million times more difficult. He didn't believe anything without substantial proof and perfect explanation, neither of which the former attorney possessed. All he had were a few words, meaningless when told to anyone else in the world…though especially the prosecutor.

So he couldn't very well 'talk it out', or do anything else of the sort. Edgeworth would probably just hang up like he had before. Before anything could be in the least bit explained.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the same nagging curiosity as before- the desire to find out exactly what was so troublesome. He had spent the rest of the day before inventing new possibilities, most of them completely ridiculous, though all the same, they were possibilities. It might have been anything at all, though the one lead he had decided was most likely was that more rumors had been circulating. Out of everything he could think of, that was the only idea with merit. So it had to be that. He would find out the details.

Although…now, with his fingers hovering over the phone, he began to wonder what had made him investigate this in the first place. He had decided it was Franziska von Karma (or his conscience in the form of her) that had pointed it out to him. She had mentioned that something was wrong, and he had immediately begun to spin ideas. Maybe after three years of nothing at all, he was desperate for a mystery or two. He wanted to feel that satisfaction that came from revealing the truth, from finally cracking the case. So he had started to leap for conclusions.

And speaking of mysteries, Franziska herself was one. Why did he think of her in the first place, and why did he continue to think of her? After barely giving a thought to her for three years, it was as though the past was suddenly resurfacing in his mind. Suddenly, everything was beginning to return to the way it used to be. He had returned to court, if only as a helper. He had spoken to Detective Gumshoe, and had repaired things with Maya. It was as though his brain was attempting to piece together every missing link. Which included Franziska von Karma, he supposed. As mean as she had been to him, the prosecutor was still a recurring character in his life.

But then, if she only wanted him to tell everyone the truth, why was she still terrorizing him? And more importantly, why did he get this strange, nagging feeling every time she appeared?

--

"Mr. Wright."

The courthouse was almost the same as the day before- quiet and not at all crowded. Kasanov was there- minus the notebook but still with her files and the same serious expression. Katrina Erilland was still staring at the clock. The bailiff stood by the door with perfect attention.

But where was Maya? He had expected her to be here by now.

"Mr. Wright, are you listening to me?"

"Huh?"

"That little girl from before is here. I think she would like to speak with you."

"…'That little girl?'" He glanced toward the door again, seeing exactly who he had expected. She looked less upset then before- perhaps a little more embarrassed. It was hard to tell. He stepped outside into the hallway, wondering why she was here.

"Pearls…did Maya send you?"

"Y-Yes...Mystic Maya told me to talk to you…she had to do a channeling…" Her eyes were glued to the ground ashamedly.

"Talk to me about what?"

"I'm sorry I told you to go away, Mr. Nick."

Even three years older, she was still the same person. Still the same innocent little girl who couldn't quite grasp everything bad about the world.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I didn't come back to Kurain Village. I just…didn't think anyone would want to see me."

Pearl suddenly looked upset. "I don't know quite what's going on, Mr. Nick, but Mystic Maya and I believe in you! You're a good person! You always win in the end!"

He smiled. Even if she was only twelve, at least she was on his side. At least she believed in him.

"You know, Pearls…there's someone you should meet-"

"Is it that mean lady who was with you?? I don't like her!"

He sighed. "No…it's my daughter, Trucy."

Her eyes widened. "What?? Mr. Nick, how could-"

"My **adopted **daughter. Her family disappeared."

Pearl relaxed again. "Okay! Oh…I just remembered."

He had noticed her mood seemed to drastically change very often. "What is it?"

"I'm worried about Mystic Maya…I think she has been very sad...that's why I told you to go away. I thought you would hurt her feelings…"

"Oh…I'm sorry-"

"But she also talks to a person on the phone. Sometimes it sounds like she is arguing with them and they won't listen to her. I thought it was you at first…" She paused. "But I asked her about it…I think it's that prosecutor! Mr. Ed-je-worth!"

She evidently had never learned to pronounce his name. Of course, that wasn't a big deal in comparison to what she had just said.

"What?"

"He won't listen to her, and I think it makes her sad…he's so mean! Even worse than-"

"What are they arguing about?"

He had just remembered something.

"…_**I want to help Mr. Edgeworth, but he won't let me…"**_

"I don't know! Mystic Maya told me not to be worried about it, but I am! I don't like that prosecutor person! Or that assistant person who's always hanging around!"

"You mean…Miss Erilland?"

"She scares me! And so does that defense person!"

"Miss Kasanov?"

"Yes! Please be careful, Mr. Nick! You shouldn't trust a scary person like her!"

"Mr. Wright." There was a voice from the doorway. Kasanov, of course.

"O-Oh! Um…is the trial starting?"

"Yes."

"Just…one minute…"

She opened her mouth as if to object, but then shook her head and left the room.

"Thanks for coming here, Pearls…I have to go inside now, but I'll see you again soon, okay?"

"Mr. Nick…please don't forget about Mystic Maya…"

"I won't. I promise I won't forget anything you told me."

Pearl looked forlorn for a brief moment, then suddenly happy again."Okay! See you later then!" She turned and raced down the hall, almost running over a surprised guard.

Somehow, in that one little conversation, Pearl had given him some vital clues. First- she had basically confirmed the fact that something was going on with Edgeworth. Something important. Second- she had revealed that Maya had somehow become involved…or more specifically, that her assistance with the mysterious matter was being repeatedly declined.

And third- she might still be very young, but she had supported the glimmer of a thought in the back of his mind. The little piece of him that was telling him forcefully to not trust Kasanov. Pearl had felt such a worry too.

But the real question was- why?

--

"It's about time. I thought you weren't going to come."

He nodded.

"It seems the prosecutor is as emotionless as ever…"

What was so suspicious about Kasanov? Why couldn't he trust her?

The trial started up, and he couldn't quite focus his attention again. He was instead remembering his days as attorney- specifically, his investigations. There had always been a slight notion- perhaps an intuition- as to who the 'real killer' was. Even without a shred of proof, he always got that strange feeling the moment he met the guilty party.

And Kasanov was giving him the same feeling. Like he had reverted back to his days of solving the case, and she was the one he would twist the evidence and the theory to indict. She was the guilty party, even if there had been no crime.

Which was completely ridiculous. Kasanov was his apprentice! First he had been jealous of her ability to predict the prosecution's exact strategy, and now here he was, thinking of her as the 'real killer' stereotype! And she hadn't done anything wrong, or even suspicious! Why couldn't he keep his thoughts under control?

In addition, he had just been wondering that morning if it was only his imagination that was creating this idea that something was wrong with Edgeworth. After all, it had only been the intuition in the back of his mind telling him to be curious- he had no real proof at all. But now…he had a real reason to wonder. His suspicion of Kasanov might just be a notion, but Pearl had given him a real reason to wonder about Edgeworth. First of all, what was the problem? Secondly, why would Maya know about it? And third…why was she not permitted to help? Why did she supposedly argue with him over the telephone about this mysterious issue?

He wished he had been paying attention the last three years. It looked as though he had missed much more than he had ever expected.

--

The trial ended with a not guilty, as he had expected. He didn't see Pearl in the halls, and assumed she must have gone back to Kurain Village. He would have to make sure to visit sometime in the future, or face her wrath. Katrina Erilland was officially released, but had to return to the detention center to get some belongings.

This left him and Kasanov to make conversation in the empty defendant's lobby.

"So…you won."

"Yes."

There was a long silence. He was still experiencing suspicion in her, and couldn't bring himself to ask anything of value.

The door creaked open then, and he almost expected to see Franziska ready to terrorize him some more.

"Wright. Miss Kasanov."

It was Edgeworth instead. That was almost worse.

"Is something wrong?" If Kasanov would keep talking…he wouldn't have to say anything.

"No…I only came to congratulate you. That was a difficult case."

"…Thank you."

He wished he were invisible…he was so out of place here.

"This was your second trial, correct?"

"Yes."

"You're very good for a beginner. Though I…should have expected as much…" The prosecutor glanced at him for a moment. He didn't look pleased, but on the other hand…he didn't look hateful either.

"...I suppose we'll be seeing each other in the future then?" Kasanov asked.

"Yes. I suppose we will."

Edgeworth turned and left the room, barely even acknowledging him. The door slammed shut.

"…Well…he seemed as happy to see you as last time." The attorney commented.

"Yeah, I know…I'm getting around to fixing that." He lied.

"I would advise hurrying up, Mr. Wright. I dislike awkward conversations such as that one."

"Believe me…so do I."

The girl he couldn't trust gave him a disapproving look, and started for the door. He followed ashamedly after.

--

"Mystic Maya!" The twelve-year-old stood at the door of her office-room.

"Pearly…did you go see Nick?"

"Yes! I…I told him I was sorry!"

She sighed. "And what did he say?"

"Um…he said he was sorry for not coming back to the village…he seemed very sad. And worried about you."

"Worried about me? Why?"

"Oh…" She looked down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry…I told him about you arguing with Mr. Ed-je-worth on the telephone…"

"Pearly?"

"It's just! That's so mean of him! To talk to you like that!"

She sighed again. "Listen, Pearly…Mr. Edgeworth is worried about something, okay? He doesn't want me to help…because he doesn't trust me."

"Why doesn't he trust you, Mystic Maya!? You always keep your promises!"

Only time could make her truly understand this.

"Well…some people won't trust someone because of who they are or what they do. Mr. Edgeworth…he doesn't believe that what we do is real."

"But! Why not?"

"…It's too complicated to explain right now, Pearly…but you don't have to worry about it, okay?"

"Mystic Maya…I'm worried about Mr. Nick too…I don't like that mean lady who's with him…"

"What?"

"That mean lawyer person!"

"Pearly…you're talking about Miss Kasanov, right?"

She nodded furiously. "I don't like her!"

"Don't worry about her. I'm sure Nick can take care of her himself…" She said this to avoid admitting that Kasanov made her nervous as well. There was something strange about her…something that made her untrustworthy. But she wouldn't give Pearl anymore fuel for the fire. "So…where did you go after you talked to him?"

"Um…I went to visit Mother…I didn't go to see her for a while, so…then I came back with Miss Erilland…"

"Miss Fey." There was a voice from the door. As if on cue, it was Katrina Erilland. She held a strange notebook and some channeling forms.

"Oh…do you need something?"

"These are for you. To be approved."

On second glance, the notebook looked a bit familiar. "Thanks, Miss Erilland."

She turned to leave, but then stopped.

"Actually, Miss Fey…I need a box to carry something…where are they kept?"

"Um…in the main building…first door on the left."

"Thank you."

Erilland left the two cousins alone.

"Mystic Maya…Miss Erilland is kind of scary too…"

She sighed for the third time. "It's just your imagination, Pearly. Don't worry about it."

_--_

"_You walk too slowly, Miles Edgeworth."_

_He resisted the urge to kick her. "We still have fifteen minutes, Franziska. That's plenty of time."_

"_Well…it's best we get there as fast as possible." That was easy for her to say. She wasn't dragging a suitcase._

"_Arriving at the boarding area sooner won't make me leave any faster."_

"…_Let's just hurry! Stop trying to read into this!"_

_She had been acting strangely all morning- he couldn't tell if she was trying to get this entire event over with, or if she actually cared about his leaving. Then again, it was usually hard to tell what she was thinking._

"_So…I assume you already have a case?" She had slowed down a bit to talk to him, at least._

"_Yes. It looks relatively simple. A criminal broke out of jail and killed the woman who testified against him."_

"_Have you prepared a witness?"_

"_I don't think that will be necessary, but…yes, there is a witness. She happens to be connected to the original case, but the court doesn't need to know that."_

"_How exactly are you going to get around revealing that?" She questioned. They reached the boarding area and stopped walking._

"_She was kidnapped for a diamond and pushed off a bridge five years ago by the defendant. She changed her identity as a precaution. It looks as though the defendant doesn't even recognize her." _

"_What?"_

"_It looks like five years was too long to remember."_

"_That's ridiculous! If __**I **__saw someone again, even after __**ten **__years, I would immediately recognize them."_

"_Of course you would, Franziska. Especially if you spent five years in jail thinking you had killed them."_

"_Would you recognize your fa-" She stopped herself, but it was too late. The damage was done._

"_Pouring salt in someone's wound is no way to say goodbye."_

"_S-Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."_

_Frankly, he was surprised she had apologized so quickly. Usually she would make a few sarcastic comments first. Now she just looked ashamed. He wondered where she had suddenly acquired a conscience._

"_So…what about you? What do you plan to do now that you have no one to try to crush?"_

"_Do not think you are escaping just by going away, Miles Edgeworth. There is still much to settle between us."_

"_Oh really? Do you plan to 'get me for this'?"_

"_Do not mock me."_

_He sighed. "Okay then...do you have your first case?"_

_Franziska cringed. "No…not yet. But I will. I will get my guilty verdict."_

"_Well…good luck, then."_

"_Are you being sarcastic!?" She tugged on her whip._

"_No, Franziska. I'm wishing you good luck."_

"_I'm not interested in your wishes. Only in your defeat."_

_And this was exactly why he could never tell what she was thinking. Every time he had a thought, she would immediately go and contradict it. _

"_Do you think we can call a truce for just five minutes?"_

"…_What for? Are you worried about losing?"_

"_No…I just want to talk about-"_

"_I'm not interested in any foolishly sentimental goodbyes."_

"_Alicia Foster."_

_She froze. After she had called Madeline Duncan, he had tried not to bring it up. It was too sensitive a subject- she was probably more affected by the incident than she led him to believe._

"…_What about her?"_

"_I want you to be careful, okay? Don't drop your guard."_

"_Oh, yes. I promise I'll never go anywhere with a stranger or eat candy lying around on the street…"_

"_I'm being serious, Franziska. You might have died the other day. Don't go into a dangerous situation alone."_

_She opened her mouth as if to say something, but couldn't seem to speak._

"_If you see Alicia Foster again, call me immediately. And call 911."_

"…_Understood."_

"_**Flight 816, now boarding."**_

"_It's time. I'll see you in the future, Franziska." _

_He started for the gate._

"_Wait." It seemed she had something left to say to him._

"_What is it?"_

"_I…I don't think that…you actually killed your father."_

_He took a step back in surprise._

"…_I read the file again recently…something doesn't add up. I don't think you killed him."_

"_But I…what doesn't add up?"_

_She looked down. "You should go now, Miles Edgeworth. Your flight is leaving." She wasn't going to tell him any more information. But then again, she was probably only saying it to make him feel better. He couldn't change the truth._

"_A-Alright….goodbye then."_

_They turned and went their separate ways._

_--_

She had been right, of course. Something about his theory didn't quite add up, and that had been proven. He wondered if she had wondered back then if it had been her own father, or what she might-

He needed to stop living in the past. The case was closed now. He should be focusing on the portion of his world that was completely uncertain- leftover guilt from his father's death would only make his current problems worse.

Actually…maybe he needed to stop drowning in this altogether. He had lost track of the real world so much that he had barely noticed the strange thoughts surfacing in the back of his mind. He needed to worry about what he could still control- his suspicions.

He had wanted to stay away from Wright. Maybe it was because he didn't trust the former attorney at all and was absolutely certain he had forged the evidence, though…more likely, he was afraid his utter lack of belief in Wright was completely uncalled-for. That he should have believed without needed real evidence. That was what friends did, after all. They trusted more than just the perfect evidence and explanation. They trusted…people.

Why was that so hard for him? Why couldn't he just call up Wright and ask what had happened?

Of course, that was the only issue anymore. His 'suspicions' were growing, and he was actually beginning to be…worried for the man he couldn't seem to trust. There was something...that bothered him. A strange concern he was trying to ignore, to pay no attention whatsoever to. After all, he had always wondered if he was a bit too paranoid, or if his mind jumped to too many conclusions- he had been wrong about the cause of his father's death, and that was far more than a little notion in the back of his head. So maybe he couldn't say anything for certain, but…

It was Wright's apprentice. Mirabel Kasanov. He had gotten this worrisome feeling when they'd first met- the feeling that it was no coincidence she had come to work for the former attorney. If he could just think for a moment, that maybe…Wright hadn't forged the evidence…then she might be the one who had. Or maybe someone coming to clean up any evidence of what had transpired. She might be there to keep an eye on him- to make sure he didn't figure anything out.

Of course, this was all hypothetical. Wright could have easily had the evidence forged himself- maybe he wasn't the innocent victim he made himself out to be. Maybe Maya Fey believed in a criminal after all.

But all the same, he was quickly growing suspicious of Mirabel Kasanov- even if she wasn't connected to 'that' trial, she might be looking for a way to get to her new mentor. It would be just like Wright to completely miss that.

So he would take matters into his own hands- if only subtlety.

He called the detective.

"Mr. Edgeworth! Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

Why did Gumshoe always expect that he wanted to talk about his 'problems'?

"No…"

"Then…did you find out something?"

"No, Detective. This isn't anything serious. I just wanted to ask about something."

"Oh…" His voice sounded a bit disappointed. "What is it, sir?"

"Are you at the police department?"

"Yes! And one of the computers is open!"

There was no going back now… "Good. Can you look something up for me?"

"Of course, Mr. Edgeworth!" His not-quite real jolliness was getting a bit annoying, but at least he was trying. "Did you want information again about Miss M-"

"Mirabel Kasanov."

"Huh? What about her, sir?"

He paused. "I...I'm just wondering. Something about her is…disturbing, to put it simply."

"Oh, Mr. Edgeworth…"

"No, I…I don't mean like that. I just wonder if she's somehow involved in the forged evidence…or maybe something else. She showed up a little too abruptly, and I think that's suspicious." He spoke quickly, before the detective could get any ideas.

"Oh! Well, then I can search her…just one second…" There was the sound of keys clicking. "Okay, got it. Not very much."

"Any previous record?"

"Nope. Not even a gray mark. Just a birth certificate and some documentation that she's actually a lawyer, sir."

"Nothing else? No real information?"

A pause, and a mouse clicking. "Nope. Nothing else. Sorry, Mr. Edgeworth…"

"That's alright. I wasn't really expecting to find any obvious answers." He stifled a sigh of disappointment.

"So what's bothering you about her, sir? I mean, I thought maybe you thought-"

"No, it's not that…not at all. But I…well, I can't really tell what it is that is so disturbing, but I just get the feeling something terrible might happen if I ignore this. I suppose I need to find more evidence."

"If you ever need any more help with…um, the investigation, I'll be there to help, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"…Thank you, Detective." Even if there was hardly anything to help with anymore.

"Oh, and…just for the record, sir…I got this funny feeling when I saw Miss Kasanov too…I guess I must be imagining stuff."

This sudden declaration reminded him of that moment at the airport. His first clue that he wasn't really the guilty party. Perhaps there was merit to this as well.

"We'll have to wait and see. I'll talk to you later then."

"Later, sir!"

He hung up and returned to what he had been thinking of- his conversation with Franziska so many years before. There was something, some sort of clue that he knew was there. Something waiting for him to uncover. But just like the cause of his suspicion in Mirabel Kasanov…he couldn't quite figure it out.

And for all he knew, he was running out of time.


	11. Purely Coincidental

Well, I finished- so here it is...I was expecting this to be much shorter, but oh well.

Disclaimer that I have stated a zillion times before applies.

* * *

He woke up early that morning.

He wasn't sure why- Kasanov had told him she wouldn't be coming in until a bit later- but he had still woken up and seven-thirty and been unable to fall back to sleep. Maybe he had grown accustomed to waking up then. Or maybe he was dreaming.

Either way, he seemed to be awake early, which at least meant peace and quiet for a little while. He sat behind the desk and tried to formulate a plan.

His goal: to find out exactly what was going on with Edgeworth, and why it involved Maya. He had heard that one should always go to the source first- and in this instance, Maya was the source. He would find out the situation from her- as they seemed to be friends again, it would be the simplest solution.

And he had to do it in person. A phone line could be hung up. The other person could refuse to talk. But if he could talk to her face to face, she couldn't hang up. She would tell him.

Strangely enough, he felt immediately energized after forming this plan. Perhaps it was because he finally had a mystery that he could potentially solve- something he could do that didn't require an attorney's badge. Even if the entire world was against him, he could still look for the truth.

Or maybe he was only pretending. But he would at least try.

"Maya?"

There was a short pause. "…Nick." Was she angry with him again?

"Is everything okay?"

He could hear incessant chatter in the background. "...I'm trying to find Miss Erilland…I'm missing a bunch of forms…"

"Oh…is this a bad time?" There was the sound of a slamming door, followed by silence.

"No. What is it?"

He forced himself to speak. "W-Well…I was just wondering...I don't really like talking on the phone." He paused suspiciously. "Do you want to go get a burger or something tomorrow?"

He waited five seconds in empty silence.

"…No."

"Huh?" was his first reaction.

"You haven't talked to Mr. Edgeworth, have you…"

"No…I haven't." His voice sounded guilty.

"Well, I'll only come if you invite him too. And if you're ready to talk."

What? She wanted him to...talk to Edgeworth in person? Where neither of them could hang up when the conversation reached a breaking point? Where he would have to explain himself with Maya there, watching his every move? And most importantly, how would he accomplish his original mission without Edgeworth knowing?

"Hello? Nick?"

"You want me too…invite him? You actually think he'd agree to that?"

"Convince him."

"How??"

She didn't answer him. "Oh, and he probably doesn't want any burgers, so we can go to a coffee shop or something. And-"

"Maya! How am I supposed to get him to come!?" He didn't mean to wake up the entire district, but…he had to know why she thought this would be so easy. What was **her **secret plan?

"Tell him the truth can't be hidden forever."

"Huh??" That was the very last thing he'd expected to hear.

"Trust me, Nick. It'll convince him."

"Are you sure??"

Another pause. "Yeah."

"…I'll ask him."

Her voice brightened a bit. "See you tomorrow."

During the conversation, he'd realized that Maya had changed drastically in the past three years. He hadn't noticed it before…or maybe it was just difficult to accept that she wasn't the same silly, carefree assistant who tried to help him out, but usually ended up in trouble. No, she was very different now. She had seen too many terrible things in her life to remain the same- and now she was stronger, colder…she didn't rely on him to come and save the day anymore.

He didn't like it. She shouldn't have had to change. Maybe, if he'd just been there for her, she wouldn't have changed at all. If he'd stopped thinking of only himself for just one minute…

But it was too late now. The former Maya might never be back- and it was his fault. More blame to stuff in a suitcase and drag along behind him until he couldn't walk any farther. It was getting to be too heavy a load.

But…was **all **of it his fault?

"_**He won't listen to her, and I think it makes her sad…"**_

That settled it. He wasn't going to get out of this one easily. His only option was to call Edgeworth and get this over with. He pulled out his cell phone and started to dial.

There was a loud knock on the door, and he shuddered. It wasn't Kasanov- she had stolen and made a copy of his key. And it couldn't be Maya- he had just talked to her on the phone. So who else could it possibly be? He turned the handle and let the door creak open slowly.

"Is Mirabel Kasanov here?"

It was Katrina Erilland. She had a taut expression on her face- he couldn't tell whether it was anger or not. Kasanov's notebook was in her hand.

"Oh! Miss Erilland…no, she's no-"

"Will she be here later?"

"Um…yes."

"…She left this notebook in the detention center. I forgot to give it back to her yesterday. Can you make sure she gets it?"

"Okay…"

Erilland handed him the notebook and turned to walk off.

"Wait!" She looked back at him. "Maya is looking for you…she said she was missing forms or something."

She nodded and walked away, still with the same dark expression. The entire conversation had lasted less than a minute, but had left him with a very important piece of information. Possibly too important to ignore.

He had snooped through other people's possessions many times before- usually looking for case-making evidence or a solid motive that would prove the real guilty party. He had snuck into people's offices, broken into their safes…and only been caught once or twice. And usually, he could find exactly what he was looking for.

But what was he looking for this time? Stolen merchandise? A letter ordering someone's death? A partially burned scrap of bloody cloth?

No. He had to admit it- the only reason he wanted to look was for himself. He didn't have a client who would be hauled off to jail if he didn't find this information. No one's life was on the line. He was only doing this because **he **wanted to know some sort of truth. To find something that either proved or disproved his vague suspicion of Kasanov that had developed over the past few days. To know what she wouldn't tell him.

His curiosity was killing him- he **had **to know the contents of the notebook. After all, he'd never seen her writing in it, and so he doubted it was some sort of case file. It must have had personal information in it- if only he knew what…

The cover was blue and completely unmarked, and his fingers hesitated. Maybe it wasn't a good idea after all to be looking at this. What if he didn't want to know? Once he read it, he wouldn't forget anything he'd seen. If she was a criminal, it would be his responsibility to turn her in. He couldn't ignore the information and continue living guilt-free.

On the other hand, if she was a criminal, he needed to find out quickly. Maybe it was only his imagination running away with him, but she might have appeared only to hurt him or someone he knew. He might have only a tiny window of time to stop her.

And if he did stop her…it would be like returning to the past. He would be the star again. He would no longer have to lurk in the shadows, wishing the world would understand him.

So he opened it.

He saw the first page for barely two seconds. The entire paper was filled with words written in pencil, and there were much too many for his eyes to adjust. He didn't have time to read even a single sentence, and there was something else on the page that held his attention for the brief time he looked.

Red ink. In large letters over the rest of the writing. It looked as though after the page had been filled, someone had taken a marker and written something of much more importance. It read-

The lock clicked and the door swung open. Terrified, he slammed the notebook shut and flung it onto the table. She had almost caught him. It had almost been game over.

"Mr. Wright."

He shut his eyes and braced himself for a single gunshot or the slash of a knife. If she was going to kill him, he hoped she would do it as soon as possible. And leave Trucy unharmed.

"What are you doing?"

He opened his eyes slowly and tried to relax. The idea of Kasanov actually killing him right then and there was completely ridiculous. He should have been ashamed of himself for imagining it.

"Good morning, Miss Kasanov! Daddy!" Trucy skipped excitedly into the office, completely derailing his train of thought. "Any new cases for today!?"

"No…not yet, Trucy…" She was eating leftover butterscotch pudding and rifling through her magic books. She pulled out something large and heavy-looking from the shelf.

"Daddy! This is a law book!" She flipped through the pages. "Wow! What a cool bookmark!"

"Oh. Sorry…" It was the book Kasanov had been reading before. He took it and set it back on the desk. Trucy found what she was originally looking for, 'Guide to Basic Disappearing'.

"See you later!" She skipped out of the office with the same enthusiasm. He tried to shake off the rest of his nervousness. Trucy had cut some of the tension, but he still couldn't help but wonder if Kasanov knew what he'd been doing. That he'd been looking through what could be some sort of secret journal. That he'd seen something in the red writing, and was trying to piece together the facts.

"Could you please stop looking at me like I'm some sort of criminal?"

"S-Sorry!" He shuddered. She was giving him a look that made him want to confess on the spot, even if his misdemeanor hadn't given him any real clues. He had become used to constantly feeling guilty for one thing or another.

Kasanov took a seat behind the desk and picked up her notebook. "…I've been missing this for a day or two now…has it been here the entire time?"

"No, it just…" He trailed off. She had flipped it open to the first page. If he'd been at a slightly different angle, he might have been able to read the text. Instead, he only saw her eyes get a bit wider.

"Mr. Wright, who brought this here?" She looked at him accusingly.

"Um…Miss Erilland. She said you left it at the detention center."

"And did you do anything with it besides put it on this desk?"

"N-No…" He lied. How could she see right through him?

"How long ago did she give this to you?"

"She was here about…ten minutes ago." Was this some sort of interrogation? What did she hope to get from him?

"Did she say anything else?"

"W-Well…" He stuttered. "She asked if you were going to be here later and to make sure that I gave it to you…"

"And that's it? Not anything else?"

"No. Nothing else."

"…Not even a 'thank you' for defending her?"

"No…"

Kasanov stopped glaring at him and looked back at the notebook. "I see."

In the interest of not being interrogated again, he slunk into the kitchen to collect his thoughts. There were two things he needed to know. First- why had his apprentice been so determined to know about who had given him the notebook and when he had received it? She was being overly protective of it- as though it held some sort of terrible secret that would cause instant disaster if it were released. And as though by knowing who had been in possession of this secret, she could control the damage. At least, that was a theory.

Secondly- he had to recall what he'd seen inside the notebook. Maybe he had only looked for a split-second, but he had the strange feeling he could remember something, perhaps a word or two of the red writing. He just had to piece the letters back together...to discover what this nagging thought in the back of his mind was.

"Have you figured it out yet, Mr. Wright?"

He closed his eyes, put his head down, and silently recited what he could remember of evidence law. All pieces of evidence must be approved by the chief of police…

"Do you **really** think that poorly reciting evidence law will cause me to leave?"

Any pieces not approved by the chief of police must be relevant to the case at hand…

"Do not ignore me." Franziska slapped him. Considering she wasn't actually there, it was a wonder that it still hurt.

"…Go away." He whispered.

She scoffed at him. "I am trying to **help **you, Mr. Phoenix Wright. You should be **grateful.**"

He didn't respond. He shouldn't have even been having a conversation with himself in the first place. Why wouldn't she leave him alone?

"You know what you saw. Don't try to forget it."

"I don't…remember." What was she talking about?

"Are you **sure? **I think you remember very well."

What could he possibly have seen?

"No. I don't remember. Go away."

"Hmph. Well, when you stop feigning ignorance, you might actually understand everything. Don't say I never told you."

He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he wasn't being yelled at by a fake Franziska von Karma.

"Anyway, you have something more pressing to deal with. You made a promise to Maya Fey, correct?"

He started to nod before he could stop himself.

"Well, it's very dishonorable to make false promises. You know what you have to do."

Trying not to look at her, he reached for his cell phone. Maybe if he was talking to someone else, she would go away…

"Wright."

On second thought, maybe this wasn't a good idea…maybe he wasn't ready to talk to Edgeworth after all.

"Are you going to respond, or is this some kind of prank call?"

He opened his mouth, unable to speak.

Franziska slapped him again. "Answer!"

"H-Hello."

There was a long pause.

"Is there some reason you called, Wright?"

"Y-Yes…I was just…" He paused, only to be glared at angrily.

"You were just **what?"**

"Well, I…I asked Maya if she wanted to go to a coffee shop tomorrow or something and talk…she said I should invite you too." He might as well be truthful.

Another pause. "No thank you."

He got the feeling a hang-up was imminent. "Wait!" He would have to fall back on Maya's advice.

"…What is it now?"

"The truth can't be hidden forever!"

Dead silence. Franziska continued to glare at him.

"…**What?"**

"That's what Maya said to tell you…"

"…And do you even know what she meant by that, Wright?"

He really, truly had absolutely no idea at all.

"No. But she said-"

"Fine. I'll come."

He stared at the phone.

"Really?"

"…It's probably only a matter of time anyway." The prosecutor said cryptically.

Franziska smirked suddenly. "So, Mr. Phoenix Wright. Now that you've gotten his attention, isn't there something you should be asking him?"

He couldn't exactly ask Edgeworth about whatever problem he had- not over the phone. And he didn't want to bring up the supposed arguments with Maya, either- too risky. He would have to wait to inquire about that.

So what did she expect him to ask? And for that matter, why should he listen to her anyway? He could formulate his **own **questions.

"So, um…" he struggled to think of something different to ask, and chose the first thing that came into his mind. "...for old time's sake...why don't you invite Franziska, too?" Why was **that **the first thing he had thought of? Was he insane?

His 'conscience' shot him a very disapproving look. There was a short silence on the phone.

"…I doubt she'll be able to come, Wright. She probably has a case."

He couldn't exactly go back now. "Well…can you at least ask her? Or maybe she can prosecute a trial against-"

"I'll see what I can do."

There was the click of a hang-up.

Evidently, the conversation was over. He was left alone to be yelled at by himself.

"What sort of foolish question was that, Mr. Phoenix Wright!?"

"Go away."

"That accomplished nothing! Nothing at all!"

It was annoying that Edgeworth had barely even considered asking her. Was his suggestion really worth nothing to the prosecutor?

"Franziska von Karma is not even related remotely to this!" It was a bit funny to see her refer to herself in the third person, but…

"…If she's not related remotely, then why do **you **keep showing up? Don't you think that's a little too weird to be as coincidence?"

She looked ready to slap him again.

"It is purely coincidental, Mr. Phoenix Wright! You said it yourself before- that the reason you are seeing these illusions is that you are trying to return your life to its original state! But your **foolish **desires are less important than solving these mysteries! You need to be focusing your attention on that!"

"Are you sure? Because that means if I focus on finding out what's going on, which I **have **been doing- you shouldn't be here yelling at me."

"Don't you dare look too far into this! It's a complete waste of time!"

He laughed. "Nope. Sorry. I don't think so."

Her expression suddenly turned deadly serious. "You could be running out of time, Mr. Wright. If you don't figure this out soon…it might be too late."

"I think I'll be fine, Franziska von Karma."

"Suit yourself." She shook her head, and then proceeded to disappear completely- leaving the entire situation even more difficult than before. Now, not only did he have three or four mysteries to solve, but he didn't even know which were real and which were red herrings.

And, though he didn't want to admit it- Franziska was right. He might just be in the last few seconds of this short game, about to run out of time.

--

_It was already a bad day. _

_Several hours before, he had gotten a call from the detective._

"_**Mr. Edgeworth, sir! Mr. Wright…he's been caught presenting forged evidence!"**_

_Honestly, he didn't want to believe it was true. He didn't want to believe that everything he'd learned about being a prosecutor had all been caused by fake evidence in unfair trials. Perhaps he was stretching the situation a bit, but it could have meant that he __**had **__killed his father after all- that some part of the evidence had been faked simply to win a not guilty verdict. That everything Wright had said about believing in one's client until the bitter end was simply…a lie. That behind the façade of an incredibly talented defense attorney, there was just a worthless cheater. _

_And if it was true, that would mean he had been completely tricked. His thoughts and opinions had been manipulated by a professional. That could mean…everything he had discovered might all be fake as well._

_He refused to believe that, at least. Finding the truth was still the most important thing, regardless of who had made him realize it._

_Later that afternoon, he had received a call from Maya Fey- she was panicked, asking him frantically if he knew the whereabouts of 'Nick'. Apparently, after being revealed and given a hearing date, the attorney had completely disappeared. He wasn't at all surprised- after all, when one was in trouble, they would put their life into possible jeopardy if it could drum up any sympathy. Maya Fey would be more likely to believe any story Wright could fabricate if she was already concerned for his safety. It was a classic trick. But the only thing that could change __**his **__mind was evidence. Witness testimonies could easily lie. But evidence told the truth._

_Or at least, he thought it had._

_He sat at his desk now, amidst case files and reminders he'd written to himself. It was late at night- __**too **__late…maybe past midnight. The rest of the building was eerily quiet- it reminded him of the night he had written his suicide note and left his former self behind. _

_To think he had realized the error of his ways only because of a cheater._

_At first, he didn't notice the noise at all. Perhaps he dismissed it as something from outside, or a janitor in some part of the building. _

_But it wasn't. It was a knock on the door of his office. He realized suddenly, and rose to answer…but the door swung open before he could get there._

"_You're still here."_

_He nodded wordlessly- he knew enough not to mention the fact that __**she **__was still there as well. She probably worked this late most of the time._

"…_Have you heard about Phoenix Wright?"_

"_Of course."_

_She was silent, but he could tell what she was thinking…that the allegations must be true. They were the same in that regard- they each believed only evidence. He had no doubt that when presented with the same facts; they would draw exactly the same conclusions. _

_It was hard to believe she was only nineteen- almost impossible, actually. Nineteen-year-olds were supposed to be carefree, shirking their responsibilities, living as though they could never die. But Franziska…she had never even been a kid, never a teenager…she had always walked fifty steps in front of everyone else- or at least tried to. And the entire time, she had been carrying her father's legacy, almost falling under its weight._

_And losing…anything really, but particularly in court…it had scarred her. Losing to both him and to Wright must have given her a severe inferiority complex- not that she would ever show any sign of giving up. It scared him to think that she would try to defeat him at any cost to her health and safety. That winning mattered more to her than he could ever imagine._

_And it made him sad to see her try so hard at a fight that would bring her nothing…even if she did win._

"_Miles Edgeworth." She said, breaking his train of thought._

"…_Yes?"_

_He wondered why she had come here. She hadn't brought a case file, and he hadn't done anything wrong recently that would earn him a reprimand._

"_Why did you go against the von Karma creed?"_

_She stated it as bluntly as though she were asking him if it would rain soon. As though she only needed to borrow a pen and then she would be on her way, so could he please give her one? But the real question…it was so out-of-the-blue that it took him a moment to realize how serious she was. _

"_What?"_

"_I think I deserve an answer."_

_Her eyes were hollow and lifeless, her tone ice-cold. It was doubtful that he could dodge the question, but…_

"_I don't know what you mean by that."_

_Anger flashed across her face. _

"_Yes, you do! You…you've ignored what my father has spent years teaching you. You've lost your perfect win record, and yet you do not seem to care!"_

"_I don't remember you having a perfect win record either, Franziska-"_

"_We aren't discussing me." She snapped. "We are discussing why you have ruined the reputation of-"_

"_Do you honestly believe that what __**I **__do has any bearing whatsoever on what people think of you or your father?"_

_She clenched her fist, and he could tell that she knew he had a point. But she would never admit that._

"_Well…then why did you abandon what you have spent so long learning?"_

"_Franziska…we both agree that cheating is bad, correct? That forging evidence is imperfect?"_

_She didn't speak, but he saw her nod very slightly._

"_Your father forged evidence. He isn't as 'perfect' as you seem to believe. He also murdered my father. I think we can agree that taking a person's life is 'imperfect' as well."_

"_What are you saying, Miles Edgeworth?"_

"_You're holding yourself up to a false standard. You can't base your worth to something that you don't even know the real worth of."_

_Had he gotten through to her at all?_

"_Once again, we are not talking about me. We are talking about __**you.**__"_

_Evidently not._

"_Franziska, are you really asking me why I'm not living up to the expectations of the evidence-forger who killed my father?"_

"_Do not talk about him with such disrespect."_

_He stared at her. "Are you listening to anything I'm saying?"_

"_Why did you allow yourself to lose to such a petty amateur?"_

"_If I remember correctly, __**you **__lost to him as well."_

"_This is not about me! This is about you losing your perfect win record and then completely disregarding the von Karma creed!"_

_He wasn't even sure what to say anymore. But she expected an answer._

"_Tell me…why are you so determined to achieve a guilty verdict? Do you really believe that everyone accused of a crime deserves to go to jail?"_

"_The guilt or innocence of the defendant is not important. I have my father's legacy to uphold. And a score to settle with you."_

_He hadn't realized how angry he was._

"_Franziska! Would you __**please**__ stop spouting your father's idiotic propaganda!? Did you ever think of the lives of all of the __**innocent **__people you've convicted!? How can you possibly still believe that a 'perfect win record' will make you superior to everyone else on the planet!?"_

"_What are you-"_

"_I'm tired of listening to this, okay!? I don't want to hear about how I've 'disgraced the von Karma name' by actually doing what my job was originally supposed to be!? And I don't want to hear about how you don't even __**care **__about anything except living up to your father's forged legacy!"_

_She stared at him, completely stunned. Almost frightened._

"_And furthermore, do you honestly believe that if you can somehow 'defeat' me, your slate will be wiped clean and you'll have a perfect win record again!? Are you really __**that **__determined to be like your father!? Getting revenge on anyone who hurts you, at any cost!?"_

_She opened her mouth, but didn't speak. There was a voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to stop, but he couldn't seem to._

"_No, wait! You're probably not even listening to me, are you! After all, you're the only one who can possibly be right, and everyone else is completely wrong! How dare I disregard the von Karma creed! I should have really killed myself that night two years ago!"_

_He thought he saw something in her eyes…but it couldn't be. He was just imagining things._

"_I thought you were better than that, Franziska. I thought that someday, you would actually understand. I guess I was wrong about you."_

_But he wasn't imagining things. She was…crying. He had made her cry. Again._

_When she began to speak, her voice was quiet. Choked. Missing the sarcastic tone she would have normally said the sentence with. She was far too…sincere._

"…_I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to you, Miles Edgeworth."_

_She turned and walked out, shutting the door behind her without a sound._

_What had he done? _

_--_

When he awoke, he knew exactly what.

He had gravely miscalculated. Based on the data, he had made the assumption that Franziska didn't care about his opinion at all. That she didn't listen to anything he said. After all…she had been out to crush him since she was a little girl. Why would she possibly care what he thought of her?

And so he had gotten carried away. She almost never showed her feelings, and so he'd assumed she didn't have any at all. That she was just some little clone of her father.

No, it was more than that. He'd given up on her. He had been the only one who ever believed in her, ever believed that she could change- and then he'd just given up. He'd completely lost his patience, and…

Hurt her. Given her another metaphorical scar to deal with.

How could he have been so stupid?

Of course, there was nothing he could do about it now. Not after three years. Not after everything that had happened. He would just have to live with the guilt that he had hurt her.

It was one problem he would never be able to fix.


	12. Over My Head

I don't own the song in this chapter. It's 'Over My Head' by The Fray. I also don't own the characters. And...sorry about the formating...I'm not sure why but this website puts double spaces in everytime you hit enter...

* * *

_**I never knew**_

_**I never knew that everything was falling through…**_

He awoke that morning with an unusually ominous feeling, as though the temperature had suddenly dropped twenty degrees and a strong wind had begun to blow. Like there was some sort of invisible storm that had been brewing for a little while now, but he hadn't noticed it at all until it struck. As though today, whatever had been teetering on the edge of the cliff- not quite in reality- was going to fall and become **very **real.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

_**That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue**_

_**To turn and run when all I needed was the truth…**_

Perhaps it was simply the fact that he was going to see Maya and Edgeworth. Based on what he observed over the past few days, he didn't believe that this little meeting would turn out especially well. In fact, there was no way it could. After all, the prosecutor was completely dismissive of his requests and opinions, and seemed to have some sort of serious disagreement with Maya as well.

Which brought him back to that same question- what could they possibly be arguing about? He knew that Maya had wanted to help but was being declined…but what could she possibly be offering help for? How would she even know what was going on?

Maybe if he just paid close enough attention, he could decipher the issue. After all, there were clues to everything everywhere- if he put the facts together correctly, he would understand everything. He would know what this strange secret was that everyone was trying to avoid telling him_._

_**But that's how it's gotta be**_

_**It's coming down to nothing more than apathy…**_

Kasanov was scribbling down something on a piece of paper when he entered the office, and the blue notebook was lying unopened on the desk, as though taunting him with another secret he wasn't supposed to know. He tried in vain to remember what he'd seen, but no dice. He probably wouldn't remember without some sort of trigger- a reminder that would bring the memory rushing back.

On the other side of the room, Trucy was sitting on a cluttered couch with a magic book, a huge smile on her face. He felt a pang of worry at leaving her all alone with Kasanov, who he had started to become more and more suspicious of. He would never be able to live with himself if he let someone hurt Trucy- and he had feeling Zak Graymarye was always watching him as well, making sure he was doing a good job. He couldn't let anyone else down.

But on the other hand, if his apprentice had wanted to hurt him or Trucy, wouldn't she have already done it? Nothing bad had happened yet, and he would probably only be gone for a little while…so maybe there was nothing to worry about.

Still, he vowed that if he had any intuition that something bad had happened, he would call immediately.

"Well…I'm going now…I'll be back in a little while…" He took the book Kasanov had been reading as a precaution, in case there was some sort of awkward silence and he needed to look busy.

Trucy beamed. "Okay, Daddy!"

Kasanov looked up for a moment and nodded slightly. And in that brief moment, he thought he noticed something in her eyes- almost like…worry. Almost like fear.

But then again, he was probably just imagining things. He closed the door behind him and started to walk away under the cover of dreary, gray clouds.

_**I'd rather run the other way than stay and see**_

_**The smoke and who's still standing when it clears…**_

_**--**_

The glass door rang when he entered, and Maya was already there at a table. She looked up at his entrance, not really smiling, but not really frowning either. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Is he coming?" Maya asked immediately when he had sat down. He hadn't noticed before, but her eyes were missing the spark they had always had three years before. It was depressing.

"I think so…" He set the book on the table and glanced toward the door.

"Did he agree to come or not, Nick?" She looked at him expectantly.

"…Only after I told him what you said. How did you know that would work?"

"What did he say after you told him that?"

Why hadn't she answered him? "Um…first he asked me if I knew what you meant, and then he said something about it only being a matter of time."

Maya seemed to understand perfectly the meaning of such statement, and looked a little brighter. In a dark sort of way.

_**Everyone knows I'm in over my head**_

_**Over my head…**_

Perhaps the question needed to be repeated. "So…how did you know it would work if I said that?"

She sighed. "It doesn't really matter, Nick. As long as it worked."

As long as it worked? Now he **had **to know what she could possibly be thinking.

"I talked to Pearls..."

"I know."

He paused. "She…said she's heard you and Edgeworth arguing about something. What's going on, Maya?"

She blinked at him a couple times, as though surprised he would have actually asked about a personal matter.

"…It…isn't that big of a deal. Pearly was just worried about me."

He didn't believe that for a minute.

"If something's wrong, you can tell me…"

There was a short silence.

"It's not my responsibility to tell you, Nick."

Not her…responsibility? Then whose responsibility was it?

_**With eight seconds left in overtime**_

_**She's on your mind**_

_**She's on your mind…**_

If it wasn't her responsibility, maybe she meant that it was his- that he was supposed to figure this out for himself. He supposed that he could have missed something…he had been practically missing in action for the past three years. But what could he possibly be expected to know if no one would tell him anything? After all, no one had given away any serious indication as to this mysterious issue, so it couldn't be something incredibly important that he would be angry at himself for missing.

But then, if it wasn't…how could he find out?

The door rang again, and his eyes jolted to the door. It was Edgeworth, of course. At first glance he seemed to have the same blank but serious expression on his face, but…for a moment, there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Was it fear again? What did **he** have to be afraid of?

It was gone as fast as it had come, and the prosecutor took a seat without a single word to either of them. He didn't seem to have any desire at all to be there.

"Thanks for coming, Mr. Edgeworth." Maya said, standing suddenly. "I'll go get us something to drink."

What was she doing? How could she be leaving him alone to make awkward conversation?

_**Let's rearrange**_

_**I wish you were a stranger I could disengage…**_

She walked off to the counter, leaving the table completely silent. He took out 'Progression of Courtroom Procedure from Ancient Civilization to Modern Times' and opened it to whatever page had been read last.

"…What is that?"

It took him a moment to realize that Edgeworth had spoken at all.

"It's…well, it's mine...but Miss Kasanov was reading it, so I figured I'd see if I could make any sense of it…" He babbled.

"…Interesting bookmark."

He glanced at the bookmark. "Oh…yeah. It must be something of Trucy's…" The conversation trailed off into silence, and he searched frantically for something to say. Maya had gotten their drinks and was returning to the table.

"So…I take it Franziska couldn't come?"

"…I told you she was probably busy." Edgeworth and Maya exchanged glances.

"Did you ask her?"

"…Of course I did."

_**Just say that we agree and then never change**_

_**Soften a bit until we all just get along…**_

He took a sip of terrible-tasting liquid. "Well…at least ask her if she can take a case against Miss Kasanov. She's beaten you, so I'm sure Franziska would love to-"

"Wow. Even Trés Bien was better than this." Maya cut him off suddenly. "Really, this tastes awful."

Was he allowed to finish his sentence?

"But don't you think-"

"I was going to bring Pearly here, but…I guess I won't."

Edgeworth was completely silent- not even trying to bring the conversation back to its previous state.

He would have to do it himself. "I mean, after I beat you, she came all the way from-"

"What do you think, Mr. Edgeworth?"

The prosecutor glanced warily at the tea and finally spoke. "It tastes horrible."

_**But that's disregard**_

_**You find another friend and you discard…**_

Why was he being interrupted and ignored? He had done everything Maya had told him to do- invited Edgeworth, made conversation…what why she trying to do?

"But, Edgeworth…could you ask h-"

"Speaking of your apprentice, Wright…there's…something about her that disturbs me." Apparently, despite Edgeworth's lack of belief in his innocence, this was a topic far more serious.

Maya nodded. "Yeah…Nick? I don't really know her that well, but she reminds me of all of those other bad guys you put in jail. Like Matt Engarde. Or Manfred von Kar…" She trailed off, looking at him. "Don't you think so?"

Wouldn't it sound strange if he told them all how suspicious he'd become of Kasanov in the past few days? He felt like that would be the move of a traitor- but then again…no one would have any way of knowing what he'd said.

"I…I guess she is kind of dark…"

There was a short pause.

"It's more than that, Wright. You know nothing about her background…and don't you think she appeared a little too suddenly?"

"She could be planning to hurt you, Nick. Or Trucy."

_**As you lose the argument in a cable car**_

_**Hanging above as the canyon comes between…**_

Hadn't that been exactly what he'd been thinking this morning? That Kasanov was some sort of murderer who wanted to hurt him and his adopted daughter? He'd been afraid to leave the house because of it…and now all he wanted to do was run back and see if his worst fears had been realized.

"Okay…I thought of that too…but what am I supposed to do about it? I don't have any proof."

"Find some." Maya said. "Before it's too late."

He immediately thought of the notebook. If only he could just open it and see what the red writing was…

"Alright. I'll look."

There was another long silence, and he sipped the foul-tasting coffee. Somehow, the silence was worse. He had to think of something to say- or more importantly, something that would complete his original mission. He needed to somehow discover the reason for their strange behavior.

"So…what have you two been doing over the past few years…?"

They exchanged glances again, and Maya spoke. "…I've been running Kurain village, Nick. I'm a spirit medium."

He nodded, and she said nothing more.

"What about you, Edgeworth?"

"I prosecute cases for a living." was all he said.

_**Everyone knows I'm in over my head**_

_**Over my head…**_

That hadn't been successful at all. Time for a different approach.

"So…I guess nothing interesting has happened since I…left, huh…"

They both glanced at him sharply.

"Just because you leave the courtroom doesn't mean the world stops turning, Nick." Her voice was too cold- he glanced at the coffee to see if it had frozen solid.

"Well…then what's happened?"

No one spoke. He was quickly growing tired of this game, and even though it was probably the wrong move, he stood up and stated his mind.

"Look, I didn't come here to fight with you two, but I don't understand what you expect me to do! How am I supposed to figure out what the problem is if you two refuse to tell me, and every time I try to bring up something to talk about, you interrupt or ignore me completely!"

They both blinked at him.

"I don't get it, Edgeworth! First, you're completely sure that I requested forged evidence to present in court, and now you won't listen to anything I say! Did you even ask Franziska to come!? Did you even hear me when I told you to!?"

The prosecutor stood up, his eyes frozen in a glare.

"I don't have to tell you **anything**, Wright."

The door rang as it closed behind him.

"Nick!" Maya jumped from her seat. "What did you do that for!?"

"What are you talking about!? Both of you have been practically attacking me this entire time! What did I even do!?"

She sighed angrily, and he felt another pang of grief that she'd changed so much in three years.

"Not everything is about you. If you'd just paid attention to other people's problems for once, you could get along with them."

"**What **problems!?!"

She shook her head. "…Figure it out yourself, Nick."

And then Maya turned and walked out, leaving him completely alone- literally and metaphorically.

_**With eight seconds left in overtime**_

_**She's on your mind**_

_**She's on your mind…**_

_**--**_

The outside was gray and cold, much like the feelings surfacing in his mind. He was hopelessly angry, hopelessly sad…he had to accept the reality that there was nothing else he could do. There was nothing else to follow, no more fragile truth to cling to as he sunk. The one fact that had been keeping him determined was fading slowly- it was almost gone now. Three years was forever to wait.

He hadn't intended to leave in such a way- and if only Wright hadn't been so incredibly clueless, he wouldn't have. He could lie…he could usually lie for a long time, but this was much harder than any lie he'd ever told to himself or someone else. He only kept up the façade to stop himself from going into shock from guilt. If he told someone else, it would be like telling himself the real truth- he wouldn't be able to handle that for a minute.

So there was nothing he could do. He couldn't tell Wright anything because he couldn't speak about it. He couldn't accept Maya Fey's help because that would give him too definite of an answer. He couldn't search anymore- there was no point. And he couldn't ask the person who knew nothing to give him the truth.

All he could do was sink slowly.

He was about to unlock his car and drive to the place when there was a voice behind him. Someone trying to save him from the suffocating silence.

"Mr. Edgeworth! Wait!"

Maya Fey rushed up to him, gasping for breath and looking as though she had something important to say.

"…What is it?"

"I'm really sorry about that."

He looked away. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"…Should I have told Nick? I didn't want to before, because he was distracted from losing his badge, but then…I wasn't really sure what to say."

"He probably won't even care."

Her voice was suddenly louder. "He **will **care. This isn't something you can just ignore for three years. He's going to want to help you, even if you don't believe in him."

"He doesn't need to help. This is my responsibility. It's **my **fault."

"No! It isn't your fault! You weren't the one who-"

She wouldn't take the guilt away. "It **is **my fault. I should have seen it coming and stopped it. This all happened because I…because I messed up."

"How did you mess up!? This has nothing to do with you, Mr. Edgeworth!"

When he'd known her before, he'd thought of her as someone who didn't have a grasp on the harshness of reality. But he supposed that now…she definitely understood.

"I lost control for one second…"

"What are you talking about!?"

"It doesn't matter. I can't change anything now."

They were both silent for ten seconds, with nothing more to say.

"I think he's going to find out soon." Maya said. "Nick, I mean. I never told Pearly, but-"

"Your cousin is still too young to have to know about this. But Wright should probably know. Although…I don't think I'll be able to discuss it with him when he does find out…"

"You won't have to. I'll tell him you don't want to talk about it…but…"

"What?"

"Please let me help. I think…there's still h-"

He cut her off. "I don't think I could deal with a definite answer."

She paused, then dropped the conversation. "…I'm sorry about Nick. And I'm sorry I asked him to invite you…I didn't think he would-"

"It's fine. You had no way of knowing."

He unlocked the door to the car, opened it, and stepped in.

"Where are you going…?"

He froze. "I…to the…"

Maya sighed, apparently understanding. "Don't search, alright? Don't even look."

He nodded, knowing he probably wouldn't keep such a promise.

"I'll see you later."

"See you later, Mr. Edgeworth."

Then he pressed the accelerator and went to go drown in his guilt.

--

He held his breath when he opened the door, but everything was perfectly alright. Trucy hadn't moved an inch- she was still flipping excitedly through the pages of her magic book, and Kasanov remained completely silent behind the desk. The only thing that seemed to have remotely changed since he'd left was that instead of writing, his apprentice had the blue notebook open, and seemed to be staring at the first page. He felt that same, gnawing curiosity to know what her eyes were seeing. But her face gave nothing away. He couldn't even venture a guess.

He also had more important things to worry about. Maybe Maya and Edgeworth would refuse to tell him anything, but that didn't mean he couldn't still figure this out. He just had to piece the facts together.

_"**Tell him the truth can't be hidden forever."**_

He probably would have known immediately if it was a problem central to Maya- she wouldn't have hidden anything like that from him, nor would she be so focused on getting him to talk to Edgeworth.

So it had to be some sort of trouble for the prosecutor- he had been the one acting strangely, dodging questions…he must have had something to hide.

But what could it possibly be? It had to be something very serious, judging from both of their words and actions, and it had to have occurred during the time that he had completely lost track of the world. Perhaps very soon after he lost his attorney's badge.

But…what could have remained a problem for so long? What could he have somehow forgotten about and paid no attention to for three years?

He thought about calling Detective Gumshoe and asking for details, but for some strange reason it felt like it would be cheating. He couldn't ask for outside help- not after he had been missing an important problem for so long a period of time. He needed to figure this out by himself. It was his responsibility.

But where could he start?

"I think it should be obvious by now what you need to look for, Mr. Phoenix Wright."

The voice was chilling. He walked quickly from the office, knowing he couldn't very well talk to himself when there were people around to declare him insane.

When he'd reached the hallway, he began to speak in a whisper. "Why are you here?"

"You are thinking far too hard about this and ignoring the obvious answer."

What was she talking about? There was a faint glimmer of a thought in the back of his head, but he wouldn't listen to it.

"**What **obvious answer?"

"Were you listening to anything that was said today? Anything at all?" She snapped.

"Of course I was! I got interrupted every time I tried to speak!"

Franziska smirked. "And what does that tell you?"

What did that tell him? It only seemed to mean that neither of them cared remotely what he had to say.

"It doesn't tell me anything."

"Are you sure you aren't simply ignoring the obvious conclusion, Mr. Phoenix Wright? It seems very unlikely to me that this whole thing could be simply a coincidence…"

"What are you talking about!? What 'thing'!?"

"You shouldn't ignore the obvious."

The glimmer of a thought stirred in the back of his mind again. But that couldn't possibly be it.

"There's nothing…"

"But there **is. **And if it is the only possibility left, then it is your responsibility to look into it."

He was silent. The brief thought had turned into a full-fledged concern, and he felt suddenly as though he had put all the pieces together. And…it was the only possibility left. He had to at least look, even if only for a moment.

"So do you understand?"

He paused, some part of him not wanting to let her know that she was right, but he had to investigate this. So he nodded dryly and walked into Trucy's room.

He'd had the computer for a very long time- it had been Mia's, and had remained in the office for a few years after her death. Since he didn't have any particular fondness for technology and barely ever used it, he had put it into Trucy's room. He wasn't sure she used it either, but at least it wasn't taking up space in the office anymore.

Now, he had to use it. He had to see if his worries had been correct. But his fingers hesitated over the keys.

"The truth cannot be hidden forever, Mr. Phoenix Wright. You are going to find out eventually, whether you like it or not. I think it would be better to know sooner rather than later."

When he looked back at her, she was gone. She had left him with no other options but this- there was nothing else he could possibly do but look. And he had to accept whatever he found as the answer to the mystery- no matter what it might turn out to be.

So, fingers shaking with anticipation, he typed in his query, hit enter, and clicked on the very first site he saw. Judging from the headline at the top, it was some sort of newspaper article. Seeing as it had been written by Lotta Hart, he immediately thought of it as some sort of gossip article that had no affect whatsoever on this mystery. That what he was about to read was just some silly little story about monsters in a lake or secret relationships among the stars. The first sentence caught him completely off guard.

And then, when he'd comprehended what he was reading, his blood froze. Just the first sentence made him utterly incapable of movement or thought. In that split-second, there was only one thing to be aware of.

He was going to be sick.


	13. Never Too Late

Well, this has been my favorite chapter to write so far...it turned out a bit long...

Disclaimer applies.

* * *

…No. There was no way. He must have been dreaming. He must have fallen asleep in the coffee shop, waiting for Maya to arrive, and dreamed up everything he heard, everything he was reading in this instant…the truth as he had come to know it a split-second before.

But wouldn't he have woken up by now? Didn't dreams usually end at the pivotal moment?

So perhaps he had read it wrong. Perhaps he only needed to close his eyes for ten seconds, forget what he'd seen, and try to read the article again, calmly.

He shut his eyes tight without another glance at the screen.

_1…it wasn't real._

_2…nothing like that could have actually happened._

_3…after all, things like that only happened to someone else._

_4…everyone was someone else to someone else._

_5…no. It wasn't real. _

_6…he couldn't possibly have missed something like this for so long._

_7…or could he have? He hadn't read a newspaper in ages…_

_8…but why wouldn't Maya or Edgeworth have told him about this?_

_9…no! He had only been imagining things!_

_10…he just needed to calm down and read it correctly._

He opened his eyes and began again from the first line.

_In a shocking new development, the latest police report may have well-known prosecutor Franziska von Karma's name on it- as the __**victim.**_

…He'd read it correctly the first time. And counting to ten hadn't changed a thing.

But he read it again anyway. He read it over and over until he could recite it forwards and backwards, and paraphrase it in only five words.

Franziska von Karma was dead.

She had died three years ago, and he hadn't even noticed. He'd been too caught up in his own misery to pay a speck of attention to the news…to anything that occurred outside of his head, actually. And in doing so, he had remained completely unaware of the prosecutor's…murder.

That was right- someone had murdered her. The article wasn't more than a paragraph, and after a quick scan, he had determined that the identity of the murderer was not mentioned at all. He decided he could always read the rest later- this was more important.

Honestly, he didn't know very much about her personal life, so his dismissed the issue of motive and instead focused on just the simple question of who had taken her life.

Only it wasn't simple at all. It could have been a zillion things. Perhaps she had been working on some sort of case and had brought a little too much attention to herself by investigating. He'd heard that the mafia didn't appreciate those who meddled with them…so it might have been Bruto Cadvarini himself that had done or arranged this. After all, even Franziska couldn't fight off such a force all by herself. It could have easily been that.

But then again, what if it was something far more disturbing?

"…_**I doubt she'll be able to come, Wright. She probably has a case."**_

Edgeworth had lied to him. Several times. And since it would have been far easier to just tell the truth the first time, he could only presume that Edgeworth was lying to himself as well. That he was refusing to believe she was dead…but why? Even if one was experiencing grief over a death, they still acknowledged it. They told the truth to others…and to themselves. The only situation he could think of in which lying would be the only option…was if someone was feeling guilt.

Guilt. As though it was their fault. As though they had…if only accidently…committed **murder.**

He paused his train of thought right there. He couldn't immediately jump to conclusions…especially not over something he hadn't even grasped yet, and he knew if he kept thinking in such a way, he would probably find more proof. And finding more proof in this situation was a bad thing.

But then…if he was to ignore that completely, what had truly happened? He was still having trouble accepting the first line of the article as the truth and not some strange dream, and now he was compromising the rest of his sanity attempting to think of a possible scenario in which this could have happened. And being haunted by the fact that the murderer could have been-

No! He had to forget that he had even thought of that! Even under extreme circumstances, he was almost completely sure that Edgeworth would be unable to commit murder. And there was no possible motive for him to kill Franziska von Karma, if you factored out the poetic justice- the prosecutor killing the daughter of the man who'd killed his own father. But if he'd been planning to do that, he would have probably done it immediately after finding out. And even if he'd had an incredibly strong desire for revenge, it would probably not have been enough to take Franziska's life.

So even with that factored out, it still left him with one possibility- that the prosecutor might have committed the crime by accident. After all, there were always stories of people getting in arguments next to cliffs or flights of stairs and one of them accidently being pushed off. It happened all the time- or so the media led people to believe.

But if that was the truth, why hadn't Edgeworth turned himself in? Didn't he believe that all criminals must be punished? And if he'd really felt that guilty about his crime-

Wait- why was he thinking about this again!? It had only been minutes after he'd found out, and yet he was already trying to turn his childhood friend into a murderer! And he hadn't even gotten all of the information!

Trying to erase the thoughts from his head, he skimmed the rest of the short article.

_Though the investigation remains mostly a mystery…large amounts of the prosecutor's blood were found at nearby Crystal Lake…_

The entire piece of writing was dramatized and sounded like something from a gossip magazine. But the facts were cold and harsh and unforgettable.

…_Footsteps near the crime scene indicate an escape attempt- one clearly foiled. Police are currently scouring the lake for any further clues as to what transpired, and it is expected that the park will be closed for the duration of the investigation…_

Really, it didn't give him very much more information, and he wished there had been some sentence that simply stated the murderer's name and their motive. This almost left the entire incident for the reader to guess.

Of course, there was one person who wouldn't have to guess. There was one person that probably knew the entire case down to every last detail. And though he'd refused to speak of this before…the truth would **have **to come out eventually.

So he picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"…Hello?"

"Edgeworth...why didn't you tell me sooner?!" His voice was shaky, and he realized he was probably still in shock from the news.

"I don't…want to talk about this, Wright."

"How could you not tell me!?"

The prosecutor's voice was almost too quiet to hear. "I don't want to talk about this…"

"Why not!? Are you lying to yourself, too!? Are you trying to pretend she's still alive!?" He wasn't entirely in control of what he was saying anymore.

There was a long pause on the phone, and for a moment it seemed like a hang-up. "That's none of your business."

He decided then that this was not a topic he'd could pursue further and still expect to receive answers for his other questions.

"Yeah, but her **murder **is! What **happened**!?! Who killed her!?"

"This is…too complicated to explain…"

"Did **you **kill her?"

He said it entirely without thinking, without remembering that this was a possibility he wouldn't consider. That this could very well mean the immediate end of the conversation, and all conversations regarding this in the future.

There was another silence that seemed to last forever, until the prosecutor began to speak again, sounding extremely upset.

"…If I had done this to her…do you think I would be able to live with myself? Do you really think I would have gone **three years **without any guilt??"

"No, I-"

"I would have turned myself in! I would have confessed and refused my right to a fair trial with an attorney!"

"Okay, okay! I didn't mean it!"

"Was that supposed to be a **joke, **Wright?? Do you honestly think this is **funny**?!"

"No! I don't!" He wasn't sure what to say…everything seemed to be warranting a bad reaction. "I just…want to know what happened…"

"You already **know **what happened." The prosecutor couldn't seem to say the truth out loud.

"No…I don't. Edgeworth…who killed her?"

"It doesn't matter. You won't-"

"Just answer the question." He held his breath.

"Alicia Foster."

He resumed breathing- it was no one he knew or had ever heard about. He wondered what the motive could possibly be. Actually, there were so many things he needed to know…he had completely forgotten about being shocked. Maybe reality had finally set in. Or perhaps he still hadn't fully comprehended the situation.

"Well…can you tell me anything else? How did-"

"Please, Wright." the voice was choked. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

And before he knew it, the conversation was over. Finished- a silence filled the phone line spilled into the rest of the room. This was just another sudden barricade in a sea of dead ends.

He would have to turn around and try to figure his own way out of this mess.

_--_

_He hadn't spoken to her in three weeks. _

_It wasn't that he didn't want to- he felt so horrible at what he had said in their argument that he would have apologized a million times by now. He shouldn't have judged her- it had taken him a long time to realize the truth, and he hadn't even been branded with the 'von Karma creed' since birth. It was going to be much harder for her…but he had forgotten. He had called her completely hopeless, and destroyed all possible communication they might have for a long time. So she might never understand…not unless he restored the tedious balance._

_And it wasn't as if he hadn't tried. He saw her in the hallways often, and had followed her, had tried to catch up to her so he could apologize…but then she would disappear around a corner, without even looking at him or otherwise acknowledging his presence. She didn't want to hear what he had to say, and he didn't blame her. But he would still have to say it eventually._

_He would have too, if he had seen her at all in the last two days- but she was nowhere to be found. She wasn't in the hallways, and there was no light from behind the door of her office. Actually, he hadn't noticed her car in the parking lot either, and he had begun to wonder if she might have returned to Germany. But then again, he couldn't think of any conceivable reason for her to have done so- not now, at least._

_So then where was she? The feeling of worry was tugging at the back of his mind, but he ignored it. There was some logical explanation for this, and he couldn't jump to conclusions with no facts at all. He would just have to look for clues._

_He wrote a note first- it wasn't very long at all, as it was only a step in his plan, but he still meant what he wrote. She would probably never listen to his apology, but he would feel even more terrible than before if he didn't at least try. _

_There was still no light coming from her office, and he held his breath as he opened it. It was fortunately unlocked- it would have caused him a serious problem if it hadn't- and there was no one inside. He glanced around the hallway before he entered, as though checking for witnesses. There were none, so he entered._

_He hadn't been in her office very often, but the first thing he noticed was how clean it was. If there hadn't been files on the shelves and a piece of paper on the desk, he would have assumed that no one had ever set foot inside. It was almost too clean._

_The second thing he noticed was the temperature- or specifically, that it was freezing. There had been a cold spell recently, and the heating system was nearly always on in the offices. But it looked as though she had turned it off- probably one or two days before- which confirmed that she had not, in fact, visited her office over the past few days. No one would have been able to work at this temperature. _

_The third thing he noticed he dismissed at first sight. It wasn't something he would have actually seen on her desk, especially if she hadn't been there for a while. He returned to his investigation._

_There didn't seem to be any files missing from the shelves, and the safe was still thoroughly dusty, so he wouldn't be finding anything of importance there. He set his note down on the desk, partially covering another piece of paper. For a moment, he thought he'd seen something strange written on it. But it couldn't be._

_She'd left the window open a bit, and he glanced outside to see dark, ominous clouds. It hadn't rained in a while, but the sky had been gloomy and overcast. Just a look made him feel almost miserable. But he was becoming distracted from his original objective. And curiosity was beginning to take over._

_He looked at the desk- specifically at the object he'd disregarded, and took a step closer. It couldn't possibly have been what he thought it was…that would have been more worrisome than anything he'd noticed so far._

_But it was. He lifted the whip from the desk, and a sickening fear crept into his mind. She had left it here. And she hadn't been here for two days. _

_Why wouldn't she have taken it?_

_And then there was the piece of paper…he'd seen something very disturbing written on it- he was sure of that now. His fingers shook as he lifted it and began to read the three statements that would have been meaningless to anyone else._

_It was a time- two days before, eight o'clock at night. It was a place too. And a name._

_**Crystal Lake. Alicia Foster.**_

_And that was all. _

_--_

_He used the computer to find directions to Crystal Lake- apparently there was one in Germany and one here as well, and he was assuming from the time that it must have been the one here. Looking at the map, it didn't seem very far away in terms of distance, but if something had occurred two days ago..._

_He banished the thought from his mind. All that was important now was that he got to the lake. _

_There were far too many stoplights in the world, and today it seemed as though they were conspiring against him. He grew more and more tense at every glimpse of red, and felt as though he would break the steering wheel in half if he couldn't get there any faster. He was too afraid to think anymore, knowing he would imagine all of the worst possibilities for what he would see…knowing he would be unable to be even the least bit logical if he thought about what might have happened._

_If he thought about the fact that he was probably far too late._

_It took seemingly forever to reach the lake, but when he did, he first noticed that the parking lot was almost completely empty. He wasn't surprised- it had been so cold and gloomy lately that there were no tourists who would want to be outside. There was only one car in the entire lot, aside from his. And just the sight of it made him feel even more afraid._

_It was Franziska's car. She was still here._

_He ran, probably faster than he ever had, through the dense forest. There was a narrow pathway that seemed to go on forever and ever, with a zillion twists and turns. It was as though he was only running in place, with the background moving behind him…just taunting him with the fact that he was too late to stop this from happening. Like the forest wanted to drag out his mind-numbing fear until he collapsed completely, begging to know what he had missed. _

_And once satisfied with his misery, it finally released him into a large open space. It was Crystal Lake, surrounded by grass and more trees, filled with deep blue water and covered in a fine layer of mist. A single platform jutted from the coastline and ran about twenty feet forward, with two posts at the end for tying up the boats that lay haphazardly on shore. There was no one on the lake, and the area was filled with a dark, hollow silence. With the sickening feeling of death and the final moments in which a life slipped away. With the smell of blood and the deep red stains on the wood of the platform._

_He stumbled forward to the edge of the lake and fell to his knees, trying to splash himself with the freezing water. It burned relentlessly, but he was too dizzy to stop. When he tried to take a breath, it felt as though whatever knife had been stabbed into him was being slowly twisted. And all he wanted was to pull the knife out and stab himself again. He had to wake up from this nightmare. He needed this to not be true._

_But it was._

_It took him about two minutes to realize he could no longer feel the burn of the water. He felt nothing at all, actually. There was no coldness from the wind that had been blowing moments before. There was no pain from the metaphorical knife. There was no nauseating smell of blood. He had shut down completely, and was functioning as an empty shell. _

_He could barely remember where he was, but his eyes were closed and there was something touching his right hand. It felt like some sort of fabric material._

_He opened his eyes without a thought, and looked for a moment at Franziska's jacket. There was a blood stain, but he thought nothing of it at all. He had already gone into shock. He was too numb to feel any pain, too lost for anything to register. He could only think of one thing at a time, and right now it was to call someone._

"_Mr. Edgeworth! I was just looking for you, sir! I have the evidence from-"_

"_Not…important." He could barely speak, and didn't recognize his own voice. "Something's happened…to Franziska…"_

"_What!? What happened, sir!?"_

_He doubted the detective could grasp the gravity of the situation without him going into detail, but continued anyway._

"_At Crystal Lake…I think she might be…"_

"_Okay, Crystal Lake! I got it! I'll be there in ten minutes, or my name isn't-"_

_He hung up the phone. He couldn't listen to such naïveté anymore…not when reality had sunk in. Not now that he knew he was too late, that he couldn't save her…_

_That this was all his fault._

_--_

"_I'm telling ya'll, this here incident's gonna be Lotta Hart's big break! I just knew it! Following around those detectives is the only way to get a good scoop!"_

_He stood on the end of the platform, staring blindly into the mist._

"_Mr. Edgeworth! Are you alright, sir!? What's going on!?"_

"_Oo, I can just see it now! Investigative journalist Lotta Hart first to reveal truth of grisly murder!"_

_He turned around lifelessly and walked back toward the shore. The detective was there, accompanied by a familiar-looking woman with puffy red hair. She was one of the last people he wanted to see._

"_Did something happen to Miss von Karma, sir?"_

_He nodded dryly and watched Gumshoe survey the scene with widened eyes._

"_We should start looking for her in the woods!"_

_Lotta Hart began to snap pictures of the evidence excitedly._

"_And the headline! 'Mean prosecutor lady gets murdered! Whodunit?'!" The journalist must have remembered her from a previous case. "It's that red-coated guy! He's the one!" _

_He didn't speak. He had done nothing to stop this from happening, so he might as well have been the cause._

"_Hey!" The detective shouted, "Mr. Edgeworth would never do something like this! And it's not even a murder yet, __**pal!**__"_

"_Scruffy detective refuses to believe truth! Arrest him too!"_

"_Come on, Mr. Edgeworth! We'll go look for her!" The detective marched towards the forest with determination and began to shout, "Miss von Karma!! Miss von Karma!!"_

_He knew immediately that it wouldn't work. It could never work. Nothing could save her. He stumbled forward, trying to stop Gumshoe from wasting his time._

"_Miss von Ka-"_

"_It's too late…"_

"_Don't say that, Mr. Edgeworth! I'm sure we'll find her!"_

_It was a mystery to him how anyone could sound so positive at a time like this. A time when there wasn't even a shred of hope to be found._

"_No…this happened two days ago…it's too late…" _

_The detective's expression changed dramatically from upbeat but determined to dead serious. "I'll call the rest of the police, sir. Don't worry…we'll figure this out." _

_The knife had returned. He was no longer in shock, and could feel a horrible, sickening pain with every breath and every thought. He couldn't look at the blood stains for fear that he would dream of what had transpired. That he would imagine her just…submitting to her fate, giving up her life without a fight. _

_Had she fought back? There were shoe prints that might have been hers on the shore, and from the placement of her jacket, it looked as though she had tried to run…but to what end? She couldn't have gotten very far…_

_So then where was she? _

_He realized then that he was staring into the water- like some sort of flicker of a thought in the darkness that filled his mind. It was telling him that if he looked carefully, he would see her in the lake…eyes closed, not breathing. An image that would haunt his memories forever. _

_He didn't see her there, but the thought was just the same. He couldn't look into the forest anymore…he would see her there and have to accept the truth he wanted so badly to ignore. That she was actually…gone._

_And that it was his fault. He had lost control three weeks ago…he had run out of patience and hurt her in a way that a simple apology could never fix. Worse still, he had made her stop trusting him. He had given her the impression that he was so disappointed with the way she acted that her life was not important to him at all. That he didn't care what happened to her. That if she was in danger, she could not count on him to help her. She had tried to deal with Alicia Foster all by herself because she thought he wouldn't care._

_If he hadn't broken her trust, she would have told him. He could have known…he could have saved her like he had in the past. He had lost control for a moment, and now she was gone as a result._

_There was nothing that could erase that._

"_So, Mr. Red-Coated Prosecutor! How'd you know where to look for the murder scene?"_

_The police were there now, buzzing rapidly about like flies that weren't entirely sure what was going on or where they were supposed to be. The forensic scientists had chased them from the crime scene, and the tactless journalist was interrogating him for her 'extra special issue'. The detective had returned from the investigation as well, dog in tow._

"_We've looked through most of the park, Mr. Edgeworth. Even the search dogs haven't found anything yet."_

_He nodded without thought._

"_Oh, and we had the lab people test the handwriting on that note…it's definitely Miss von Karma's, sir. We started looking for that Alicia Foster person too, but she's completely disappeared in the last few days. We're still looking, though."_

"…_Thank you…detective."_

_Gumshoe looked at him worriedly. "I'm really sorry this happened, Mr. Edgeworth. I know-"_

"_Hey! Mr. Prosecutor! I'm still talking to ya here!"_

_He looked at the ground with nothing to say or think._

"_I'm going to call Mr. Wright. I think he'll want to know, sir."_

"_Alright…" He supposed that this was still too important to not say, even if he had lost his trust in Wright._

_There was a brief silence as the detective dialed the number and handed the phone to him. _

"_Hello?"_

_It was a girl's voice- Maya Fey, perhaps._

"_I…need to speak to Wright…"_

"_Oh, Mr. Edgeworth! I'm really sorry, but I don't think he wants to talk to anyone right now..."_

"_This is important…"_

"_No…he's really upset right now. I don't think any serious talk would be good…wait, did something happen?"_

_Her voice sounded so innocent that he almost felt bad for breaking the news. But then again, she probably wouldn't care._

"_It's…Franziska. Something's happened to her…"_

"_Huh!? What happened!?" …Or perhaps she would care after all._

"_She's missing…and she might be-" Maya Fey cut him off before he could finish the sentence and have to say the truth._

"_Are you serious, Mr. Edgeworth!?"_

"_Yes…"_

"_Do you need help with the investigation!? I can come over there and try to channel her and-"_

"_I'm sorry…but I don't believe in spirits. Don't trouble yourself."_

''_But-"_

"_I'll tell you if anything else happens, Miss Fey."_

_He hung up, unable to speak of this anymore. Supposing spirit mediums could work…that would give him a definite answer. He couldn't deal with a definite answer just yet…_

_Perhaps it was then that he began to formulate the lie- a story he'd invented to ignore the feelings of guilt ready to overcome him. He'd done it before- after his father's death, he'd constantly reassured himself that he hadn't actually killed him. That it was only a horrible dream. _

_So now, he simply told himself that Franziska was avoiding him. That he'd hurt her, and now she did not wish to see him or speak to him at all. That maybe, if he could just find a good way to apologize…she would return to reality, completely unharmed. She would be safe. And nothing would have ever occurred between her and Alicia Foster, so he would have nothing more to feel guilty about._

_Maybe it was silly to lie to himself...but it was the only alternative to being crushed by regret._

_--_

The next person he called was Maya. After all, if this was the problem she and Edgeworth were arguing about, she must know **something. **

He held his breath while dialing- she was probably still mad at him.

"Nick?"

"Maya…what happened??"

"Did you already call Mr. Edgeworth?" Her voice didn't sound angry…but it was difficult to be certain.

"Yeah…he kept saying he didn't want to talk about it. What happened??"

"It's too complicated to explain over the phone. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Huh?"

"Is Trucy there? Then Pearly will have someone to talk to…"

"O-Okay…"

The conversation ended, nearly as soon as it had begun. It seemed as though Maya had planned this out- that she'd been waiting for him to find out and was ready to step in and explain things to him- which was good, he supposed. At least he could learn what was going on without any more awkward conversations with Edgeworth or overly dramatic news articles. He had enough of that for one day.

"Mr. Wright."

He jumped and quickly hit the power button on the computer. Kasanov was standing at the doorway. He rose to his feet shakily, having completely forgotten she existed.

"O-Oh…is something wrong?"

"I have…something to do now. I should be back in an hour."

"Okay…"

She paused for a moment, then shook her head and left the room. He heard the door to the outside open and close.

He returned to the office, where Trucy was still reading her magic books as though nothing had happened, and case files remained stacked on the shelves as though not a soul had read them in years. He noticed the book he'd been reading earlier at the coffee shop, and suddenly remembered he'd seen something strange, but hadn't been able to figure out what it was. He sat behind the desk and examined the book more closely. As far as he could see, there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. It had a plain red cover with gold lettering. No odd words or pictures…nothing.

"_**Interesting bookmark."**_

Edgeworth had mentioned it before…but what had he meant?

He pulled the bookmark from the book and examined it. Really, it didn't seem that extraordinary- maybe only a bit unusual. It was a bit familiar-looking, so it must have been something of Trucy's. Otherwise, he didn't see why Edgeworth had mentioned it at all.

He put the book and bookmark away and looked around the rest of the desk, his eyes stopping abruptly at the notebook. With everything that had happened, he'd almost forgotten about it. But now…he could look at the first page again- specifically, at the red writing. What could he possibly have seen there that he couldn't quite remember?

Just as he was about to reach for it, there was a knock at the door. He'd been interrupted from snooping into other people's property **again.**

"Hi! My name's Trucy! Trucy Wright!"

He watched his daughter drag a confused Pearl Fey off to eat pudding or play with Mister Hat, and turned his attention to Maya.

"Nick…"

"Maya…"

She looked down. "Okay…I guess I've been kind of mean to you lately, huh."

He said nothing.

"But...I'm just really tired of everyone being so sad all the time, you know? I wish I was allowed to help…"

He wondered what had brought on this sudden apology.

"And I guess it was a little unfair to not tell you anything and then expect you to know, but…I really didn't tell you anything at first because you were already so sad…and…"

"I get it, Maya. I guess I should have paid more attention…"

The easiest solution was just to forgive her without any questions or details. Really, it hardly mattered anymore. Not when there were far more important things occurring.

"And I feel really bad for Mr. Edgeworth too…that's why I yelled at you." She sighed. "That was just this morning, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"It feels like forever, Nick."

Maya walked inside and sat on the couch, and he remembered for a moment the first time he had met her- six years before, immediately following her sister's death- right here in this very room. Everything was completely different now.

"So…what happened?"

There was a long pause, and he wondered if she had reconsidered telling him.

"Well…" her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. "I haven't been able to get a detailed story from Mr. Edgeworth, but I think…Franziska was killed by someone getting revenge on her for something. About three years ago they found the crime scene at this lake…apparently they found her blood and her jacket or something. There was a note in her office that basically said the time and place she was killed, and who had done it."

"Oh." Wait…what had she said?

"Mr. Edgeworth found the note and the crime scene...I asked him if I could help, but…"

"How did she die?" He had just noticed two things. They were completely unrelated, but…

"They…don't know. They think probably a knife."

"They couldn't tell?"

She paused. "…They never found the body, Nick. That's why I've been trying to help Mr. Edgeworth…but he doesn't believe spirit mediums work…"

"Well…did you try anyway?" He was listening, but quickly becoming preoccupied with a piece of paper on the desk. It wasn't at all pertinent to the conversation, but it had his name written at the top. He started to read it with one eye and half of his brain.

"Well honestly…I don't think-"

"Wait."

He put his full attention on the paper. Did it actually say what he believed it said? That couldn't be.

"What's that?"

He handed it shakily to her, watching as she read it. Her eyes widened noticeably.

"This was on the desk?"

"Y-Yeah…"

"Nick…what does this mean…?"

He felt worry slither into the back of his mind, like a horrible snake waiting to strike. This was worse than any sudden shock. Much worse. He stood up shakily, gripping the desk for even a little bit of balance.

And then he spoke.

"_It means we have to go. __**Now."**_


	14. Emergency

Heh. Well, I feel like a space cadet. I was supposed to mention on the last chapter that I would be going away for two weeks and not have access to a computer, but...I forgot. Anyway, here's the next chapter. The last chapter, 'Never Too Late', also happens to be a song, but was not named for the song. The same goes for this chapter (it is a song by Paramore).

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor any songs ever mentioned in this fanfiction. Including the one in this chapter.

* * *

They had to leave. They needed to go now, as fast as possible…to find out what could possibly be going on. Lightning from the horrible storm that had been lingering on the edge of reality had struck twice now. Once when he read the article. And now again when he read the paper. It was to him. It had his name on the top and so the words were stuck coldly in his mind, regardless of him knowing their meaning. Regardless of him understanding anything up to this point.

There was an overwhelming sense of danger, and he had the feeling he was about to plunge right into the center of this problem. Like he was the only person who could fix it. He'd been entrusted with the task, apparently.

"Nick...what's going on??"

He had absolutely no idea.

"We have to go, Maya. Something must have happened..."

"Go where!?"

He glanced at the paper again. "Here. There's an address. It has to be there." But what could 'it' possibly be? And…more importantly, should he even do what the paper said? It was completely unclear whose side he would be on should he obey the instructions. Nothing was clear anymore.

"Do you think this has something to do with-"

"Maybe. I don't know. Did you bring your car?"

He knew he should have gotten a driver's license before…it would have caused a real problem if he'd been alone when he'd found this…

"Yeah. I'll go tell Trucy and Pearly that we need to go do something…" Maya ran to the other room, leaving him alone to frantically ponder the contents of the paper. But he didn't know…he was still so uninformed about everything…why did it have to be him that received this? Why couldn't it be someone who knew what this danger was? He hadn't dealt with any serious problems since three years ago…but this seemed to be a _**very **_serious problem.

_**I highly doubt you'll pay even a shred of attention to this note, but in case you do, I have a few things to say.**_

_**I don't trust anyone. Especially not you, Mr. Wright. I can tell you've become suspicious…but I'm afraid there's nothing you can do about what's going to happen. If you want to even **__**try **__**to repair this, you have to wait until the damage has been done. **_

He felt the words creep icily into his heart, freezing him from the inside out. Why hadn't he seen something like this coming…why had he ignored his suspicions?

_**So here's the damage. Good luck trying to fix it.**_

What damage could it possibly mean? And…had this damage really been caused by...

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Mirabel Kasanov**_

His only consolation was that she'd been kind enough to leave the address of where he might find this damage. Although she'd implied that it would be far too late to stop it from happening.

"Alright, Nick. Let's go."

He grabbed the letter and notebook and ran after Maya to go save the destroyed world.

--

It had been a gloomy, overcast day, and the sun was setting quickly in the sky as they began their drive. He spent most of the ten minutes staring at the note, turning the words over and over in his head until he was even more unsure of their meaning than he'd been before. Perhaps it was merely his imagination, but it sounded as though he was being…mocked. As though he was only to know that something terrible had happened and then taunted with the fact that he couldn't have stopped it. Or that he simply hadn't paid enough attention or done anything about his suspicions. If only…he'd kept a closer eye on Mirabel Kasanov…perhaps none of this would have happened.

Unless it had really begun three years ago. Unless this all had something to do with Franziska's death.

But that was stretching it a bit far, wasn't it?

"Alright…I think this is it, Nick." The car was parked in front of a small house. The area looked relatively calm, but at the same time…there was a car parked next to them that looked as though it had only just been vacated. The keys were still in the ignition, and there was still smoke coming from the exhaust pipe. It seemed whoever had exited was in quite the hurry…but perhaps that wasn't the only thing bothering him about the car.

However, he had far more important things to worry about. He and Maya opened the doors and ran up to the building, the tension in the atmosphere increasing greatly with every step.

"How do we get in?" Maya asked.

He looked at the door for a long moment, assessing to see if he might possibly break it down with a few well-placed kicks- he had done it before…twice. He just needed to hit right in the center and-

Maya reached out and opened the door by turning the handle. It had been left unlocked. He felt rather slow for a moment, but followed her inside just the same.

Most of the lights were turned out, and he was almost afraid to turn them on or make any noise at all, in case there was some sort of evil waiting in the shadows to jump out and strike them. He didn't want to take any chances.

There was nothing in the entrance or in the hallway that led to the kitchen, and he and Maya crept along through the narrow rooms. Still nothing happened. It was eerily quiet, if you factored out-

Wait…what was that?

"Maya…do you hear that?" He whispered.

She spun around a few times as though she might see whatever it was, but then understanding shone on her face.

"Oh, that! I thought that was coming from outside or something…"

They waited without speaking for a moment, processing the little bit of sound.

"I think it's coming from in there, Maya." He gestured to a nearby room, knowing full well what he would have to do now. Go inside- that was the only option. He needed to face the truth instead of continue to hide like a coward.

So, with Maya close behind, he stepped into the room, letting the horrible feeling of suspense overtake him. He was not at all prepared for whatever he might see inside.

_What?_

He had found the damage- leaning against the wall in almost the exact position Mia had been in at her death. The victim was bleeding…quite rapidly, red dripping to the ground in the pale light. Their eyes were closed, and the expression on their face was one of discontent, as though it was a bit too soon for a thing like this to have happened. He felt a wave of nausea overcome him, for two reasons. The first being that he was staring at what was a probably dead body and that the horrible smell of blood and death filled the air- that was enough to make anyone feel sick.

But the second reason was that this 'probably dead body' was decidedly _**not **_who he'd expected to see.

Mirabel Kasanov.

He would have given up then and gone into shock, had there not been something far _**more **_shocking about this crime scene- the fact that the murderer was still there. Leaning above the body, staring deeply at Kasanov as if to ascertain that she was, in fact, dead. Their hand was still touching the knife slightly, and they had a difficult-to-read expression on their face. It seemed to be sickness, intermingled with almost…relief. And then concern. It was impossible to tell what was going through their head.

And then the murderer looked up- straight at him and Maya. And though he'd realized it immediately upon seeing them…there was no way he could deny the truth now.

It was Edgeworth.

There was a long, empty silence in which he stared at the prosecutor, unable to move or speak or breathe. But his mind was racing at a ridiculous speed. What could Edgeworth possibly be doing here- and was it what it appeared to be? Why would he have done this to Kasanov? And more importantly...what was going to happen now? Logically, should one be caught red-handed in murder, killing the witnesses would be essential. But would Edgeworth actually be capable of such a thing? Perhaps so. It did seem as though he had just committed the act of murder…but what could Kasanov have possibly done to provoke-

"Wright…call an ambulance."

He couldn't move. The words barely even registered.

"Well? What are you waiting for??"

"Al-Alright…" The phone threatened to slip out of his shaking hands as he tried to dial. It had never been so difficult to press three numbers.

"I-I'll go get a towel or something, Mr. Edgeworth…" Maya ran from the room- it was unclear whether she really wanted to help the victim or escape the murderer.

And as for the murderer, he had resumed staring at the victim…a stare of guilt.

"_911- Please state your emergency."_

--

The lobby of the clinic was quiet that day, nearly devoid of people, with the exception of the fake doctor roaming around in one of the hallways- who luckily didn't see them. The real doctors had informed them that absolutely no visitors were allowed and that they must wait outside to see if the victim could be kept alive. The tension was completely deafening- he could feel every millisecond on the clock tick past.

"Nick…what happened back there?"

He and Maya stood in the center of the room, waiting with apprehension for something, anything to happen. Edgeworth stood about twenty feet away, staring into nothing as though completely in shock. He wasn't being a very good murderer- he hadn't even tried to leave the area.

"I…I don't know. But…it looks like…"

"Mr. Edgeworth did this?"

He nodded silently. As much as it was hard to believe…the image of the prosecutor next to the victim, almost holding the knife was too much to ignore. It was etched into his mind.

Maya shivered. "I can't believe it…I can't believe that any of this happened."

He glanced at the closed door to the hospital room and then at Edgeworth. There was something still missing…motive.

"Why do you think he would do this, Maya?"

She looked at him, the expression of complete confusion on her face answering for her. She didn't know. It would be up to him to figure this out.

He closed his eyes and tried to rewind to days and days ago…to Kasanov's appearance in his life. There were clues everywhere, if he could only just remember everything she'd told him. If he could only recall what he knew about her.

But what did he know? Hardly anything- she'd never spoken about herself, at least, she hadn't told him anything that might help him uncover the truth. He couldn't think of a single lead.

And that was when he remembered the advice he hadn't used in years. What Mia had always told him- turn the problem around.

So instead of thinking of a reason Mirabel Kasanov needed to die, he just had to think of a reason Edgeworth needed to kill someone.

Or perhaps that wasn't any easier. The only thing he could think of was that it might have been self-defense, but even that still did not explain why Edgeworth had been there in the first place. He and Kasanov had only met a few times, so he had no reason to have gone to see her. So it was most likely not self-defense.

But who might the prosecutor want to kill? It would have had to be someone he viciously hated. Someone he hated enough to be able to abandon logic and…extinguish them. But who could Edgeworth possibly hate that much?

"_**Alicia Foster."**_

That was it. The name that had suddenly surfaced in his mind- the name Edgeworth had given him earlier that day. The person who had murdered Franziska von Karma. Surely that was motive enough. But…if he really had killed Alicia Foster…that would mean...

The thought filled him with dread.

_**I can tell you've become suspicious…**_

"Maya…" He finally spoke.

She turned to face him, the expression of worried confusion still on her face.

"Did they ever catch Alicia Foster?"

"No…" She looked at him even more quizzically than before.

He hesitated for a moment, almost not wanting to speak the truth aloud.

"Then what if Mirabel Kasanov…is just her alias?"

Silence. They both glanced warily at the door to the hospital room.

If it was true…if Mirabel Kasanov was Alicia Foster…that would give Edgeworth a clear motive. And considering he'd been found next to the body, almost holding the knife…

There was no question. He was the murderer.

"Nick…maybe we should just ask Mr. Edgeworth about this…"

He shook his head. "No…not yet. We still need more details about what happened three years ago. And I doubt Edgeworth is going to be explaining anything right now…"

The prosecutor was still staring into nothing, as though permanently in shock.

"Then let's call Detective Gumshoe. Maybe he can…figure this out?" Maya suggested.

He seriously doubted the detective could figure out something as complicated as this, but it might be good to have a guard, just to make sure no one else was…hurt in some way. So he dialed the number.

"Mr. Wright! Are you looking for a new case?" Gumshoe asked cheerfully. He shuddered.

"No. There's...a problem. We need your help." He hesitated to disclose the problem, as it would probably cause immediate panic.

"Huh? Oh, wait…is this about…what happened three years ago?" The detective seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as though not sure if he should give away too much.

"Well…" He paused. "Maybe. Can you come to the Hotti Clinic? Right now?"

"I just got off shift…so I'll be there in five minutes, pal! Wait…the Hotti Clinic? What's going o-"

He hung up, hoping that would make the detective come even faster.

It was about then that he noticed what Maya was holding- it appeared to be a small pad of white, lined paper. Normally this would never have even captured his attention, but there were two curious things about it. The first- he hadn't remembered her having it before…not when they were going to the crime scene. So she had to have acquired it since then. The second- it seemed to be covered in blood. Well…perhaps not covered, exactly, but there were definitely bloodstains on the first page. And strangely enough, it didn't appear as though they were there by chance.

"Maya…what is that?" He motioned toward the evidence. She lifted her hand and let him examine the notepad in more detail.

"I'm not really sure. I found it at the crime scene…right next to Miss Kasanov."

He looked closely and became instantly confused.

"It…looks like it says something…"

"Yeah, I know. That's why I picked it up. Except that it doesn't really make sense…"

He could read it perfectly now…but she was right. It made no sense at all- it wasn't even a name. Just a word. One, single word that made no sense at all- so much for a valuable clue…

"Maybe there's some sort of message in it?"

Maya flipped the paper around a few times, as though a different angle would suddenly reveal the truth. But it looked the same from all angles.

A door at the front of the lobby opened loudly.

"See if you can figure it out, Maya. I'll go break the news to Detective Gumshoe…"

He had taken only a step forward when the detective was already there, practically hyperventilating- most likely from excitement. The parking lot wasn't _that _far away.

"Mr. Wright! What's going on!?"

He decided a sudden shock would be the easiest. "Well…we just found Miss Kasanov in her house, um…stabbed and unconscious."

"_Whaaaat!?!"_

"Don't be surprised yet, Detective. There's more."

"Uh-oh, pal…" The expression on Gumshoe's face was for once, grim.

"Edgeworth was there when we found her. Holding a knife."

"_WHAT!?!"_

Maya turned to face them at the detective's second moment of surprise.

"No way! Mr. Edgeworth wouldn't try to kill someone! He doesn't have a motive!"

He looked down. "Yeah…that's what we were wondering about. But what if…" He couldn't finish. So Maya spoke instead.

"What if Miss Kasanov is actually Alicia Foster?"

There was a pause.

"That…would give Mr. Edgeworth a motive…" Gumshoe trailed off.

He looked down. "And considering there's evidence against him…that would mean he's most likely the-"

"_**I can explain."**_

It was Edgeworth. He seemed to have broken out of his trance and had been listening to their conversation. But…had he really just said…

They stared at the prosecutor in petrified silence.

"I can explain. I think...I think I am finally beginning to understand everything…"

--

"_Mr. Edgeworth! I have the information you requested!"_

_It had been two days. Just two days since he had been at the lake and discovered the crime scene. Two days of waiting for the bad news to come. And yet, it had not. They could not find her- not anywhere by the lake, nor any other location the police could possibly think of. But they were still searching- every second he waited for the phone to ring and some officer to ask if he could come identify the body. He could barely think straight._

_And when he managed to, it was always to remember the past- to remember everything he could about the incidents with Alicia Foster, everything that had happened. Which was why he remembered something that might have been very important._

_Perhaps it would even mean the resolution of everything. And it would mean Franziska was still…alright._

"_I just looked it up on the police department computer. Here's the phone number, sir! It looks like she's in the area!" As the hours had passed, the detective had tried to remain upbeat, despite the situation. It was probably to overpower the aura of hopelessness that hung everywhere. _

"_Thank you…Detective."_

_He took the phone number and Gumshoe left the room. He was holding his breath, knowing this was the last chance. If he was correct…everything would be resolved. Or at least, resolved enough for him to live again. _

_So he dialed the number._

"_Hello?"_

_He hesitated, but managed to speak. "…Is this Officer Madeline Duncan?"_

"_Yes…who is this?"_

"_My name is Miles Edgeworth. I'm a prosecutor in the local district…"_

_There was a long pause, and he strained to hear if there were any voices in the background. But he couldn't make anything out._

"_I'm sorry…should I know you?"_

_He felt a sinking sensation in his heart, but tried to reassure himself that she might simply have forgotten his name._

"_Well…actually, I'm calling to ask if you know anything about the disappearance of Franziska von Karma. Specifically, her current location."_

_Another pause. He held his breath._

"…_Who's that?"_

_Silence. He couldn't manage to say a word- all he could feel was an extreme, crushing disappointment._

"_Oh, wait! Isn't there some prosecutor named that or something?"_

_It was odd that she'd remembered everything before, even after a six year gap, but now remembered nothing at all._

"_Yes, there…is. You may remember her from an incident that occurred during your career in Germany…"_

_She paused again. This was quickly becoming a habit. _

"_Hmm…no, sorry. No recollection of that."_

_He sank deeper into misery with every word._

"…_Twelve years ago, you witnessed a young girl almost be strangled. Do you remember that?"_

_The usual silence._

"_Wait…oh! Yes, I remember that. I think she might have called me later too…I'm not sure."_

"_Yes. She called you six years later, when there was another incident."_

"_Oh, right! Wow, I completely forgot about that, Mr. Edgeworth."_

_He wished he could simply hang up then, but he needed to ask one more time. Just to make sure._

"_So…you haven't seen or heard from Franziska von Karma in the past two days?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you absolutely certain?"_

"_Yes, of course. But if I do see her, I'll be sure to call you."_

_If she barely remembered Franziska's name, it was doubtful she knew who to look for…but perhaps it didn't matter. He had lost his only possible lead._

"_Thank you…"_

"_Well…I wish I could help, Mr. Edgeworth. Sorry about your friend disappearing and all…but I promise I'll call if anything happens. So…goodbye then, I guess." She dismissed him quickly, as though she needed to return to her real life as soon as possible._

"…_Goodbye."_

_When he closed the phone, he felt as though he were also losing any last hope of resolving this for the better. Now all he could see was a fading light coming from around the sides of the door._

_--_

_He stared at the sunset angrily- three years later, and he was still caught up in the past, still dwelling on what he might have stopped if he'd only been more careful. Three years later, and all he could think was that he would be carrying these horrible feelings forever and ever. That nothing would ever be solved. After all, he couldn't find Franziska and he couldn't bring justice to Alicia Foster. Which left him with absolutely nothing he could do except dwell on the past._

_And that made him feel so much worse. He needed to return to the present._

_But what was even happening in the present? He supposed there was Wright's suspicious new apprentice to wonder about…she was definitely worrisome, though he'd never quite figured out just what he was concerned about. All he knew was that of the people who knew her, many of them shared this opinion. Which meant there was probably some truth behind it._

_Then, of course, there was something curious he'd observed earlier that day…at the coffee shop. One of Wright's possessions that seemed quite odd. Perhaps he had never seen it before, but he couldn't help but wonder if he had really seen what he thought he'd seen. After all, that would mean…_

_He wasn't sure what it would mean. _

_He let his mind wonder for a few minutes, constantly remembering his visit to the lake earlier that day…letting that remind him of the events three years ago, and of Franziska, and-_

_No. He had to stop drowning in the past. He needed to focus on what was important now._

_But maybe if he'd just found the note sooner…he could have stopped what had happened. If he could only…change just one thing about the past…_

_But it was too late. There were no second chances. And there never would be._

_**You said you had a war to lose**_

_**You paint the world in black and blue…**_

_What?_

_**I don't need to use my gun today**_

_**Leave me as you've always done…**_

_Startled, he took his phone from his pocket and examined it. That wasn't his ringtone…it was…_

_**I saw shadows turn and fade away**_

_**Leave me in the midnight sun…**_

_And there it was. The blinking red dot. What he'd spent the past three years searching for._

_--_

_Again, he observed that there were far too many stoplights in the world, and that they seemed to dislike him very intensely- if stoplights were capable of such a thing. Still, he felt as though it took forever to simply locate the correct street…especially considering he was only following a tiny dot that could have been absolutely anywhere on Earth. The only sign that he was making progress was the fact that he was continuing to get closer to the dot. Closer to finding out the truth._

_A dark figure ran in front of his car suddenly, and he slammed the brake pedal. The figure ran to the curb and disappeared behind him. He wondered why they were in such a hurry and why they felt the need to be almost run over._

_But there was no time for that. He had to find out what was going on._

_The dot seemed to be somewhere inside a house, and he shuddered to think of what he might be getting himself into. There might be anything at all inside…any sort of danger…_

_And any sort of hope. He left the car running and the keys in the ignition, not wanting to waste any time at all. Then he ran to the front door and proceeded to turn the handle furiously to find it unlocked. The house inside was mostly dark. Shadows from streetlamps danced along the walls, and he listened to see if he could hear anything at all. But it was silent- as though not a soul had ever been there. He walked closer to the dot, into a small room. This was it. This was where it was. He looked up to see a figure leaning against the wall, bleeding horribly._

_What?_

_What was Wright's apprentice doing here? It was as though someone had just stabbed her and then run…but why? And what did she have to do with anything?_

_He walked closer, noting that she still seemed to be breathing, at least. He supposed that was alright- he had found enough dead bodies in his lifetime to appreciate those who were still alive, though it meant he would need to call an ambulance once he figured out what was going on. Why had he been lead here, of all places? What was the significance of this crime scene?_

_He noticed then that the victim seemed to be holding something very tightly, even in her unconsciousness. He pried it from her fingers and took a closer look. Of course, it was Franziska's phone. After all, that was how the message had been sent to him, and what the red dot he'd been looking for was. It made sense that he had found it here, with-_

_Wait. Why did Mirabel Kasanov have Franziska's phone? And more importantly, how did she know how to call him?_

…_**No.**_

_The truth hit him all at once. He felt his hand holding the blade of the knife and felt the sudden desire to stab himself and wake up from this ridiculous dream. Even though he knew he wasn't dreaming. Even though he knew he needed to do everything in his power to stop this death from occurring._

_Because this was exactly what he'd been searching for these past three years- a second chance. And he wasn't going to be too late again._

_--_

"What?!"

The prosecutor had finished explaining himself, and that was the only thing he could manage to say.

"Based on the facts…I believe that this is the correct conclusion."

"So…" Detective Gumshoe was almost hyperventilating again. "You're saying that Mr. Wright's apprentice is actually…Miss von Karma!?"

"Yes. Exactly."

"But how is that possible, sir!? I thought Miss von Karma was…dead!"

"She isn't." Maya spoke. "I've been trying to channel her…I know you don't believe channeling works, Mr. Edgeworth, but it does. At least…it works if the person is dead. And it never worked for her."

That was the moment he realized that the theory of who Mirabel Kasanov really was made perfect sense. He supposed he had always, in the back of his mind, known it was true. He just hadn't quite realized it yet.

It was the reason he kept seeing Franziska. He was being subconsciously reminded of her. By Kasanov.

Even the note made sense now.

_**I don't trust anyone. Especially not you, Mr. Wright.**_

She didn't trust him. She didn't even think he would read the note- so she had called Edgeworth too. And the damage…she must have gone there knowing exactly what would happen to her.

"Wright…" The prosecutor spoke. "I believe I saw something strange earlier today…the bookmark you were using in that textbook. You said your apprentice had been reading it before you…"

He remembered it. But why was Edgeworth bringing this up? What significance did a piece of paper have?

"…I thought it was strange that you were using an assassin's calling card as a bookmark. Especially one that had a drawing of you on it."

Maya interrupted. "That was the picture I drew four years ago…but wasn't it lost!?"

Edgeworth nodded. "I only just remembered this, but there was a fourth piece of evidence that was never presented during that trial...it was most likely this card. And the last person to have it…was Franziska."

He had been right. There were clues to everything everywhere- he just hadn't been paying enough attention.

"Um…hey…I don't want to really ruin the conversation, but…" the detective trailed off. Everyone turned to look at him.

"What is it?" Maya asked.

"Well…you all thought Mr. Edgeworth did it before, right?"

He nodded.

"Well, since Mr. Edgeworth _isn't _the one who did this…then who did?"

He glanced at the notepad again…Maya's hand obscured all but the letter _M._


	15. Sacrifice

Well, here's the next chapter. This one and the ones to follow will be shorter. Thank you for the reviews, and...I'm out of things to say. Oh! I don't own the characters. Including a certain someone who was previously thought to be an OC. I don't own her.

* * *

"Isn't it obvious?"

The looks of confusion he received after saying this surprised him- it seemed extremely clear who the culprit of this was. After all, who else could it have been?

"What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth?"

Well…perhaps he was not completely surprised that the detective could not put the facts together, but he had at least expected Maya Fey and Phoenix Wright to understand. But both looked at him with blank expressions.

"Alicia Foster."

There was a silence, and he had the vague worry he was missing a very important detail. One that completely disproved his theory.

"Actually…" the spirit medium began, "That's what I thought too…"

Why was she using past tense?

"But I found this at the crime scene. I think it's some sort of message from Miss Kasanov about who did this. And it doesn't say Alicia Foster or anything like that."

She handed him a notepad drenched with blood. He remembered having seen it before when he'd discovered the crime scene, but having had more important things to notice, he had ignored it completely.

His very first glance made him instantly confused. Not only did it not say Alicia Foster or anything that might remotely resemble that, but it was not even a person's name. He could not even imagine it being the anagram of someone's name, considering it was only six letters long. Even turning it different directions did not yield any understandable results. As far as he could see, there was only one way to read it- as a word.

_**Misery**_

He sighed. It was just like Franziska to never say exactly what she meant.

"So…can you figure it out, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose there is still a possibility that this says 'Alicia Foster' in some way, but if it does not…I can't imagine anyone else with a motive."

"Me neither." The former attorney spoke. "But if it was Alicia Foster, then how would she have found out? How would she know that Miss Kasanov is actually Franziska?"

No one had an answer to that. But it had made him think of something.

"Listen…I may be able to find more information about the past three years." He handed back the notepad. "See if you can figure this out."

They nodded at him, still looking slightly confused. He turned and walked down the hallway to find a place in which he would not be overheard. Just in case he was completely wrong.

As he passed the closed door to the hospital room, he felt a horrible pain arise inside him; stopping him from moving or breathing, eliminating any relief he'd had about knowing Franziska was still alive. After all, even if she'd been alive for the past three years, it did no good at all if he did not find out until she was almost dead again. It would be as though he'd lost her for the second time- as though once again, he'd been too late. Except that this time, it would be final. He would get no more chances. It was a miracle he had even received a second, and to think he'd wasted it by being too late…

He wouldn't be able to handle her dying again. The guilt would crush him.

When he regained his ability to move, he continued down the hallway to a relatively empty spot and took out his phone. He couldn't remember the number exactly, but it was still saved the database, as though waiting for the day when it would be used again. He listened to the dial tone.

"Hello?"

He paused for a moment, eyes still glancing back toward the hospital room. But there was no time to wish none of this had ever happened. He needed to speak.

"Is this Officer Madeline Duncan?"

"Yes…who is this?"

He felt as though they were following the exact same script as their previous call. He supposed he might as well continue.

"My name is Miles Edgeworth. I'm a prosecutor in the local district."

He waited for her to pause, but she began speaking almost immediately. "You're the one who called three years ago, right? The one looking for information?"

"Yes, and I'd appreciate it if you told me the entire truth this time."

He knew it was a risk- she might actually know nothing. But on the other hand, she seemed quite suspicious. There had been too many unnatural pauses in their first conversation and she seemed to have too good a memory to have completely forgotten everything. And, of course, she was the only other one who knew about this.

And Franziska couldn't have created a new identity by herself. She must have had help.

"What?"

"I said I would appreciate it if you did not continue to hide important things from me. Such as what actually happened to Franziska von Karma."

There was a short silence on the phone, and he could almost feel the tension rise.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Mirabel Kasanov. Tell me, was it you or her that came up with that name?"

Another pause. He was almost certain he had won.

"I guess you figured it out."

"Yes. I did. And now that I've done so, it is in your best interest to tell me everything you know."

There was a sigh. "Well…we've met every now and then on different cases. One day, she suddenly called me and said she was at the lake and needed help, but that absolutely no one else could be told. When I got there, she was bleeding to death after being stabbed. And since she was running from Alicia Foster, I helped her change her identity after she recovered."

"So…what exactly happened when I called you three years ago?"

"She said she didn't want you to know anything. So I pretended I didn't remember."

He felt instantly worse than before. Franziska could have told him, and she'd chosen not to. And it was his fault.

Madeline Duncan was still talking, "You know, there's actually some things I'm a little confused about, really. I asked her why she went to see Alicia Foster in the first place when she could have just ignored the note, and she said absolutely had to do it. Like she couldn't go against what it said or something. And then, I don't really understand why she didn't just call me when she got the note…then I could have arrested Alicia Foster and everything would have returned to normal. I don't get it at all."

As much as he wanted to waste all his time listening to the officer babble…he really didn't. He had much more important things to do.

"That's very interesting. I'm actually calling to tell you that you've completely failed."

"What?"

"I don't suppose you've been away and unreachable lately, have you?"

There was a pause. "Yes…I was on a camping trip with friends. I only came back this morning…why?"

"Mirabel Kasanov...Franziska von Karma, actually…is currently in the hospital after being attacked with a knife. I would say most likely by Alicia Foster."

"_**What!?!"**_

"I'm at the Hotti Clinic. Get here. Now."

He clicked the phone shut. Hopefully, that would make her come even faster.

When he passed Franziska's room again, he felt the horrible pain return. It was the pain of knowing that if he'd only realized everything sooner, he could have stopped these events from taking place. If he had only caught on a bit faster…

Although…perhaps he had. Perhaps he had noticed something, but hadn't listened carefully. After all, what had he been thinking of before he'd become so suspicious of Mirabel Kasanov?

"_Have you prepared a witness?"_

"_I don't think that will be necessary, but…yes, there is a witness. She happens to be connected to the original case, but the court doesn't need to know that."_

"_How exactly are you going to get around revealing that?" _

"_She was kidnapped for a diamond and pushed off a bridge five years ago by the defendant. She changed her identity as a precaution. It looks as though the defendant doesn't even recognize her." _

"_What?"_

"_It looks like five years was too long to remember."_

"_That's ridiculous! If __**I **__saw someone again, even after __**ten **__years, I would immediately recognize them."_

"_Of course you would, Franziska. Especially if you spent five years in jail thinking you had killed them."_

Had he known? Deep down, was the real cause of his suspicion actually him wondering if she was Franziska?

He supposed that maybe, some element of it was. But he couldn't do anything about it now. It was too late for theories and guesswork. Now that he knew the truth…he would have to deal with it as it was.

--

"So…you're saying someone stabbed her!? This afternoon!?"

The five of them stood in a circle, as though holding some sort of meeting. He supposed they were.

"Yes."

"By Alicia Foster!?"

Maya spoke up, "We aren't completely sure. I mean, it's probably Alicia Foster, but then this note doesn't make sense."

She held up the note and allowed Madeline Duncan to examine it.

"Misery?"

"Do you know what that means?"

"Um…extreme discomfort, sadness, loss of-"

He interrupted. "She means as a name. Or as some sort of clue to a name."

"Oh. I have no idea then. Hmm…maybe their last name is misery or something?"

"Somehow I doubt it."

Maya lowered the notepad and began to speak again. "Also, if Alicia Foster did do this, we can't figure out how she knew Franziska was Mirabel Kasanov…"

"Ms. Duncan, have you told anyone? Anyone at all?"

"No. Never. She told me to never tell anyone. Not even you."

He felt the familiar twinge of pain.

"Did she happen to say why she didn't want me to know?"

"No…she just said to not tell you anything."

He looked at the ground.

"Well…Mr. Edgeworth…" Detective Gumshoe began, "You didn't tell _her _anything when _you_ disappeared…maybe she was getting revenge on you or something…"

Revenge?

He supposed that she had gotten her revenge. Finally, after three years, she'd managed to defeat him in court. And considering she'd also beaten the man who'd beaten Wright…she'd gotten her revenge on him, as well.

The thought made him laugh…quietly and sadly, but he was still laughing. Franziska hadn't changed a bit.

"Are you okay, sir?"

He nodded and tried to be serious again. He had no time to remember the past.

"So…anyway, Ms. Duncan…can you think of a way that Alicia Foster might have found out? Have you heard anything about her at all in the past three years?"

"No. I haven't," She paused, then suddenly acquired a strange expression. "Now that I think about it, that doesn't really make sense…"

His reaction was immediate. "What do you mean?"

"Well…I work in the same department as Rachel Foster's twin sister…but she hasn't spoken about it ever. I mean, they said she could go off for a week or so after the incident, but she stayed there, working. It was like she hadn't even acknowledged it."

"Yes…I suppose it is. You said she kept working immediately afterwards?" He wasn't entirely sure why that detail had stuck in his mind, but…

"Yeah…when the police were looking for leads…"

He had a sudden moment of realization. Perhaps it was just a theory, but all the same, he needed to figure this out in any way he could.

"Then is it possible that while you were making Franziska disappear…your coworker was doing the same for Alicia Foster?"

A moment of silence. As he looked around, everyone seemed to have an expression of worried curiosity.

"Wait…" the detective began, "What if she got Alicia Foster a new identity too?"

Before he could respond, Madeline Duncan began to speak excitedly.

"Oh! You asked before who thought of the name Mirabel Kasanov. It was me. I thought it would be good since the letters rearrange to form 'Isabel von Karma'. I mean, not her actual name or anything, but kind of close…"

And like that, he completely lost his train of thought.

--

He left the rest of them to create odd theories and speculate over the meaning of 'misery' and walked to the other side of the lobby. There was a table there, and he noticed two of Wright's possessions on it- what he'd been holding when he'd come to the hospital. The first appeared to be some sort of note, which explained why the former attorney had come to the crime scene. He supposed Franziska hadn't trusted him to pay any attention to his phone or the tracking device. She'd called for help in a different way.

_**If you want to even **__**try**__** to repair this, you have to wait until the damage has been done. **_

But what did she mean by _that? _He supposed Alicia Foster must have threatened her in a way she couldn't ignore…but what could she have been threatened with? It couldn't have been her life, she had known she was going to lose that anyway. So what could it possibly have been?

"You…" said a vaguely familiar voice from behind him. "…Waiting for that girl in there to wake up…?"

He spun around and was greeted by a vaguely familiar face. He remembered it as the fake director from the last time he'd been here, and wondered briefly why the patient was still around.

"Yes…"

"I heard the doctors…they say it will be just fine…"

He felt his eyes widen. "Are you sure?"

"They wouldn't let me in the room…I couldn't see if she was c-"

"Excuse me, sir. Please return to your room." A real doctor appeared, and the purple-haired person turned and shuffled down the hallway without another word. He felt lost for a moment, then remembered the real doctor might possibly have the facts. Without the unnatural pauses and shifty eyes.

"Are you here for…" the man checked his clipboard. "Mirabel Kasanov?"

He wasted no time. "Yes. How is she?"

"Well…her injuries were less severe than we first thought, and we were able to stabilize her condition. She'll be making a full recovery."

He felt instantly better- maybe he was not completely without pain, but he was relieved to know that Franziska would live.

"Will she be waking up soon?"

The doctor glanced at the door to the room. "They think maybe…in thirty minutes or so…"

He had waited three years, but thirty minutes still seemed like forever. And what would he say to her when she did wake up?

He thanked the doctor and returned to what he was doing. Along with the piece of paper, Wright had also left a notebook on the table. He turned to a page and glanced over the penciled letters. It was a mixture of German and English, and appeared to be some sort of information log that detailed the past three years. He flipped through it slowly, searching for clues as to what she'd been threatened with…but he could find none. His next thought was to look at the first page, in case it stated the events of the incident three years ago.

But when he turned to it, he found something else entirely. Red writing covered the page, making him incapable of seeing anything else. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust and his brain to comprehend the words.

And when he did, he had solved half of the puzzle.

"Mr. Edgeworth! I think we might have found something…" Maya Fey and the others ran up to him with the notepad, all with odd expressions. He couldn't quite tell if it was worry or confusion.

"Do you know what that means?" He gestured to the bloody writing.

"Well…maybe. It looks like it says 'Misery', right?"

"Yes…it's a bit sloppy, but-"

"Exactly! It's sloppy! See, look how the two halves of the y aren't connected…and there's sort of a smudge over the first half?"

"Yes…"

"And the i is too short, and connected to the M…and there's kind of a dot after the s? Oh, and sort of a line after the y?"

"Are you saying it actually says something else?"

"Well…I think so. I think it says ."

He blinked. "…And that means what?"

"It means she ran out of room when she was writing."

She was looking at him as though she expected him to understand everything. But he didn't. Not at all.

"And what was she writing?"

"Ms. Erilland."

He blinked again, this time for a completely different reason. Did that mean that the defendant in his last trial had been…?

"But the problem is that this might not really be it. Maybe I'm just reading it wrong or something…am I, Mr. Edgeworth? I mean, she doesn't have a motive at al-"

Wright interrupted her. "Wait…isn't that Miss Kasanov's notebook? What's written there?"

He had almost forgotten about it. Half of the puzzle. And Maya Fey had just supplied the other half.

"It's Franziska's record of the past three years. And…this."

He held the notebook up to be seen by the rest of the group.

_**You will be at your house tomorrow at five o'clock. If you do not show, you know exactly what will happen, Franziska von Karma.**_

_**-Alicia Foster**_

The former attorney's eyes widened greatly.

"That's how Alicia Foster found out! Miss Kasanov left that in the detention center or something the other day…and it was returned by Ms. Erilland!"

Maya looked down. "And now that I think about it…she first came to Kurain village about two and half years ago…and she asked me to channel someone. I'm pretty sure their name was Rachel Foster. I just…didn't notice at the time." Her voice sounded sad, and he decided then that he wasn't the only one feeling guilt for what had happened. But…now was not the time to drown in regret.

"Then Miss Fey…wouldn't she still be in Kurain Village now? Is there someone you could ask to see if she is there without arousing any suspicion?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yeah! I'll call one of the trainees and ask them to check!"

After quickly dialing, she put the device on speakerphone. The air was filled with tension, but he couldn't help but glance back to the door of the hospital room. He wondered if Franziska was awake yet.

"Mystic Maya? Is something wrong?"

"Oh, hello…I was wondering, could you see if Miss Erilland is in her room? I've been looking for her everywhere…"

"Yes! Just a moment, Mystic Maya!"

There was a thirty second silence, and his eyes wandered again to the closed door. It was as though he was waiting for it to open and Franziska to just walk out as though absolutely nothing had happened.

"I'm here!"

"Is Miss Erilland there?"

"Um…well…no. Actually, all that's here is a cardboard box."

Maya waited a moment, but the trainee said nothing more.

"Huh? What do you mean 'all that's here'?"

There was a pause, and he could feel the pressure in the room increase greatly. He was having trouble just taking a breath.

And then they spoke.

"…_**I mean there's nothing else here. All of her things are gone, Mystic Maya."**_


	16. At Any Cost

Well, here's the next chapter. Thank you for the reviews.

Disclaimer: I am so tired of typing disclaimers...but I still don't own the characters.

* * *

There was a moment of stunned silence, followed immediately by everyone beginning to speak at once.

"Are you sure? There's nothing else there? At all?"

"Not even a note?"

"Now what are we supposed to do?"

He said nothing amidst the clatter of voices, but remained staring toward the door, still subconsciously waiting for it to open. Consciously though, he was remembering the figure who had raced in front of his car as he'd driven to the crime scene- he had determined that it must have been Alicia Foster, fleeing the scene. He wished such a detail would help, but he doubted it would. After all, that had been nearly an hour ago, and she must have found a better hiding spot than the middle of the road. It was likely a location she had already found and secured far before, as it seemed she had taken her possessions with her. She must have known she would be caught.

So now, the most important point was evidently to find Alicia Foster and stop her from doing anything further. Though he doubted she knew about Franziska having lived through the most recent incident, it would probably be evident to her very soon. And she had to be stopped before that.

"No…I'm sorry, Mystic Maya. No one has seen her around today, and there isn't any note…" the trainee trailed off.

"Well…if you do see her, make sure to call me immediately, okay?"

"Yes, of course."

Maya Fey clicked the phone shut and turned to face him, eyes wide with worry and confusion. He supposed it must have been a shock to discover someone you'd known to be a criminal…but that didn't change the gravity of the situation.

"Any ideas, Mr. Edgeworth?"

He managed to pull his eyes away from the hospital room door and look toward the ground, as though the patterns in the tiles might give him an idea. But he could barely think straight. Everything was happening too quickly for him to completely understand and accept- he could still hardly believe Franziska was even alive. That she might wake up soon and he would have another chance to apologize…not that he deserved to be listened to.

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"…I can't think of anything. Perhaps you could try calling her, but I doubt she'd give away her location."

"Yeah…you're right."

There was a silence, and as much as he tried to devote his thoughts to thinking of a way to find Alicia Foster…he could not.

"…_**And then, I don't really understand why she didn't just call me when she got the note…then I could have arrested Alicia Foster and everything would have returned to normal. I don't get it at all…"**_

If there had been such a simple way out of the situation, why hadn't Franziska taken it? Why didn't she just avoid the lake…or send the police to the lake to catch Alicia Foster. Why would she have sent herself into such a situation, knowing that even if she **did **come out alive, she would have to change her identity and spend her life hiding?

Unless of course, she wasn't only hiding from Alicia Foster.

"_**I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to you, Miles Edgeworth."**_

He was struck with the image of her from three years before- crying after he'd yelled at her…after he'd practically called her hopeless…

What if she hadn't just run away from Alicia Foster…what if she'd run away from him, as well? From her past life that he'd made her think was a disappointment? What if she'd gone to the lake that day and allowed herself to be hurt because of him?

A searing pain sliced through his heart. He had messed everything up so horribly…how could he ever fix it?

"Um…Mr. Edgeworth? Are you okay?"

He nodded almost unnoticeably, incapable of forming a coherent statement. He needed to apologize _now, _before he completely fell apart…before he could hurt her any more.

"Well…anyway, can anyone think of a way to find out where Miss Erilland is?"

There was another brief silence, then Madeline Duncan abruptly began to speak.

"I know! You can call her!"

Everyone blinked.

"Yes…but I don't think she would tell me where she is…"

"No, I mean you can call her and pretend to not know what's going on…and then we can track the phone signal to her location!"

Maya looked surprised. "You can do that?"

"I brought one of the FBI cars…it has a cell phone tracker in it! I'll go get it!" The agent dashed away, presumably to said 'FBI car'. Unable to stay focused on other things for very long, his eyes returned to the door. Closed. He felt as though it would never open.

--

"Okay, so I attached your phone, and all you have to do is keep her talking for thirty seconds. Then this map will show us where she is."

Detective Gumshoe seemed to be regarding the device with envy, as though wishing_ he_ had one to carry around.

"What if she hangs up? Or doesn't answer?"

Madeline Duncan paused. "I guess…then we won't be able to find her. But if she's trying to not be suspicious, she'll probably answer."

"I hope so…"

He watched as she dialed the number and listened to the tone. She'd left speakerphone on, and he supposed it was a good thing- they would hear whatever Alicia Foster had to say firsthand.

"…Hello?" Said a voice. Everyone held their breath, not daring to make a sound.

"Oh, Miss Erilland?" Maya adopted a fake cheerfulness, as though trying to prolong the impression that she knew nothing.

"Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing serious…I just needed help with something and couldn't find you anywhere…"

He glanced at the timer on the device. Twenty-three more seconds before a signal.

"…I'm on an errand. I should be back soon. Can it wait?" He could tell from the tenseness of her voice that she was flat-out lying.

"Um…no, sorry. It's kind of urgent, actually. See, I just got a bunch of requests from some people, and they need to know as soon as possible when a channeling can be done. But I accidently misplaced the forms for that. You know the ones I'm talking about, right? They're kind of beige? With a little red circle in the top right corner?"

Only seven seconds left. She seemed to be good at prolonging a useless and completely fake conversation.

"Oh, wait…maybe it was the top _left _corner…was it?"

"I don't quite remember, Miss Fey. Anyway, what do you _actually _need help with?"

"Oops, I guess I was rambling. Sorry…what I really need is the original of that document, so I can make some copies…"

Time had run out on the clock…but it still only said 'triangulating signal'. Why hadn't it found the source yet?

"The original?"

"Yeah…I think it's with all the other original documents somewhere…I just can't remember where that is…"

"It's in the file cabinet behind your desk. It's _always_ been there." He wondered if she was starting to get suspicious. It wouldn't be good, considering the tracking machine _still_ hadn't found the source.

"Oh yeah! I can't believe I forgot about that…I guess I didn't get enough sleep or something. Oops. Well, thanks for reminding me…I would have been looking forever…"

"Well, if that's all you need I should be going now…"

He watched Maya glance at the machine and become panicked. Still nothing- and the conversation was about to end.

"Wait!"

"…What is it, Ms. Fey? Like I said, I need to-"

"Um…what's the code for the copying machine again? Sorry…I'm so confused today…I mean, I know it starts with a one, but I just can't remember the rest of it…did it have a three or something?"

"...It's one two three four. Do you remember how to sign your name, or should I explain that to you also?"

The screen flashed suddenly, then showed a map of the city with a blinking dot inside of a building. The room grew noticeably less tense.

"Ha ha…no, I think I can figure that one out. But thanks a lot for the help, Miss Erilland. I'll talk to you later."

She hung up the phone and grinned brightly. He turned to glare at Madeline Duncan.

"You said thirty seconds, Officer. That was over a _minute."_

"Oops. I didn't think it would take that long…but hey! Now we have a location, at least…" She tapped the dot twice, and an address and short description of the building appeared. "It's an old warehouse on the outside of town…" She showed the address to the group.

"How long will it take to get there?"

"About twenty minutes, probably…"

He did a quick calculation, and decided Franziska would wake up in approximately fifteen minutes. They couldn't wait that long- it might be only a matter of time before Alicia Foster found another hiding spot.

And besides…he couldn't think of what he could possibly say to Franziska when she did awake. He wanted to apologize…he needed to apologize so many times for everything he had done wrong. But he doubted she would listen…and he didn't deserve to be listened to. In fact, the only thing that might possibly help to fix this would be to track down Alicia Foster and bring her to justice. To stop something like this from happening again.

It was all he could do.

"Alright. Let's go."

He was about ready to run for the exit when Maya Fey's voice stopped him.

"Wait! Don't you think someone should stay here? For when Miss Kasanov wakes up?"

He stopped and thought for a moment. "I suppose so. Detective Gumshoe, you can stay here."

"What? But why me, sir!? I mean…why can't _I _help find Alicia Foster…?"

"You have no common sense. Now give me your gun."

The detective sighed and handed him the standard issue revolver disappointedly. "Okay, Mr. Edgeworth…just…"

"Just _what?_"

"Think before you shoot, okay?"

What was that supposed to mean? Did the detective think he would just fire at anything that moved?

No. It wasn't that. He knew exactly what it was- the fact that when he saw Alicia Foster, all reason would go out of his head. He wanted to kill her. He wanted revenge at any cost.

"…Understood. And…" he trailed off, looking down. "If...I mean, _when _Franziska wakes up…tell her that I'm sorry."

"Of course, sir."

--

Just as predicted, they reached the abandoned warehouse in twenty minutes. It was quite near the location of the crime scene as well, and he supposed it must have taken only ten minutes to run between the two places. The building itself was tall and narrow, and looked distinctly old and foreboding. It was so desolate in appearance that it was probably avoided even by the local crime syndicates, not to mention the general public. The fence around it was broken at six points, and there was not a single guard, or even normal citizen anywhere in the vicinity. It looked as though it would be easy enough to get into- if one really wanted to.

There was one other car in the parking lot when they arrived, and as he parked, Madeline Duncan was already examining it thoroughly under a single streetlight. It didn't look familiar to him, but he supposed it must have been Alicia Foster's. After all, he couldn't think of another person who might be here. All the same, he walked toward the officer and vehicle, attempting to find a way to properly carry the gun he'd acquired.

"I feel like I've seen this car before…" she said when he'd arrived. Maya Fey and Wright had taken one of the many empty spots and were approaching as well.

"You recognize it? From where?"

She checked the license plate. "Yeah…I've definitely seen this before…"

"Whose is it?"

"Miss Foster's, I think."

He looked at her, startled. "How do you know what Alicia Foster's car looks like?"  
The officer seemed to almost laugh. "No, not _Alicia _Foster. Her older sister…the one I work with, remember?"

"Oh." He glanced at the car. "So are you saying she's here?"

"I guess so…"

He turned to face the warehouse again, wondering exactly what was waiting inside. And if it suspected them coming.

"Edgeworth!"

Wright and Maya ran up to him, and he realized briefly that he hadn't given a single thought to his doubt in the former attorney. Not at all in this entire time. Of course, he'd had other things to think about, such as waiting for Franziska to wake up, and now trying to track down an attempted murderer. He didn't have time to not trust certain people.

"So are we going in?"

He nodded. "Yes…I doubt Alicia Foster is armed, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem to restrain her. But we should be careful all the same. Also, it seems her older sister is here, so look for her as well."

Wright nodded, looking as though he barely grasped the situation. It was just like it had always been before things had gone wrong. He felt sentimental for a moment.

They approached the rickety door, which was barely hanging onto the hinges and looked as though just touching it would make it disintegrate. There was no sound coming from the other side, which probably meant there was nothing waiting to ambush them as they entered. He turned the handle and opened the door quickly before it could be kicked down and put in a far worse state, or attract unwanted attention.

The inside was vaguely illuminated by flickering fluorescent panels that revealed two hallways going in opposite directions. The air smelled stale and almost grim, and there was a fine layer of dust over the small check-in table in front of them. Clearly, the building had shut down years and years before, and had never since then been used. He felt as though he were disturbing a grave for some long-since deceased business.

"Which way?" Maya asked, glancing each direction as though waiting for a neon arrow to appear.

"We'll have to split up. If you find Alicia Foster, call the police. Then call me."

The former attorney and spirit medium nodded, then turned left and started to walk down the hallway.

"Wright, wait."

The man he had refused to believe in for the past three years turned around slowly to face him.

"What?"

"…Don't do anything stupid, okay? The last thing we need is another person in the hospital…"

Wright laughed, which surprised him. What was so funny?

"I'll be careful if you be careful, Edgeworth. I mean, opening fire on Alicia Foster isn't the best way to get justice, is it…"

He cringed, wondering how he had become so easy to decode.

--

The hallway turned sharply at the end, revealing yet another hallway next to it. The lights appeared to be in even worse shape than before, and he worried he would walk right past the person he was looking for without even noticing. A small, dusty room lay at the end of the second hallway, and appeared to be filled with pipes entering and exiting through various walls. It was fairly dark, and with the desire to leave as soon as possible, he started for the door on the other side.

"Wait…"

Madeline Duncan stopped him, peering with curiosity at their surroundings.

"What is i-"

"Listen."

He stayed silent for a long moment, straining his ears for some sort of noise in the distance...perhaps he was listening for music, though there would have been none there…but he noticed nothing. There was only a pale, hollow sound that he believed was emanating from one of the pipes.

"What is that?" he whispered.

Without answering, the officer crept across the room and kicked at a spot completely hidden by darkness. He heard a sound of impact that was definitely abnormal. It was almost like a human scream.

"Okay, who's there?"

She grabbed the darkness and dragged it out into the bit of light in the room, revealing a woman. Her face was nearly covered in oil, presumably from one of the nearby machines.

"Miss Foster!?"

Madeline Duncan released her grip and took several steps back- as though afraid her fingers would be burned by nonexistent acid- then pulled out her gun and took aim with lightning speed. He followed suit, unsure of what the proper procedure would be in such a situation.

"I'm not armed, I swear. You can put your weapon down, Officer Duncan…you too, sir."

Neither of them moved. It was as though even without verbal communication, they both knew to not trust this person.

"I'm telling the truth…Alicia took my gun."

He began to believe her slightly, but kept his aim. If she'd helped someone get away from charges of attempted murder, he doubted she would suddenly turn around and cooperate with the 'good side'.

"Put your hands up and take a step forward."

She did so, and he did not see any kind of weapon her possession. But with such dim lighting, he could hardly be sure.

"Look, I'm not going to attack you two. I just wanted to help Alicia…"

"Explain," the officer said, glaring. He couldn't help but feel out of place in this conversation.

"She called me here a little while ago, saying she was in trouble and needed help. But when I got here…she was really angry. When I tried to calm her down, she grabbed my gun and ran."

He saw no subtle signs in her behavior that might suggest she was lying, but she had been deceitful for so long that telling lies was probably second nature. And when one's life was possibly on the line…desperate times called for desperate measures. So he didn't quite trust her.

"How long ago was that?"

"I don't know…maybe thirty minutes, maybe less. I've been trying to find her, but I got lost. She's…well, I hate saying this, but Alicia is very dangerous when she's angry. And she has a gun."

He felt a brief pang of worry.

"Do you intend to cooperate with the police, Miss Foster?"

She looked down sadly, hands still raised as though declaring both her innocence and guilt.

"Yes. I only wanted to help her…but I don't think she trusts me anymore. I'm sorry I betrayed the department, Ms. Duncan…"

"You can apologize later," The officer turned to face him, "Mr. Edgeworth, go look for Alicia Foster. I'll stay here and see if I can get any more information."

He nodded, and with one last worried glance, started for the door. To find the person he wanted…almost _needed _to kill.

--

"It's pretty dark in here, Nick."

Maya emerged from a cluster of pipes, droplets of machine oil running down her face. He could feel it soaking through his jacket as well, and hoped it would wash out without being subjected to military cleaning agents. He sighed- in a movie, the characters never seemed to get stains on their clothing…not even when entering the messiest situations. Being a hero of justice was not all it was chalked up to be.

"It looks like the next hallway has light, at least." He glanced forward, trying to forget the fact that he was covered in oil, searching through an abandoned warehouse for the person who had just assaulted his apprentice.

And speaking of which…he didn't quite want to believe it himself. That Kasanov, the girl he'd trained- or at least tried to train, though she hadn't needed it- was actually the ruthless prosecutor who'd wanted to beat him at whatever cost. That she was actually Franziska von Karma.

It made his head spin. To begin with, he was trying to accept that during all the conversations he'd had with her, she was only pretending to know nothing. That she already knew what he'd been like before losing his badge. That she had already met Maya and Edgeworth and Detective Gumshoe many times before, and was struggling to pretend that she'd never seen them in her life.

It certainly explained her strange behavior- she had always seemed a bit nervous around the prosecutor…less because he was a scary person, and more, it seemed, because she was afraid Edgeworth would see right through her. It also explained how she'd been able to find the weakest link in the police department almost immediately. And why she'd always seemed to know a bit more than she should have.

And then…there was something else that disturbed him- the fact that he'd been jealous of her. Of course, it made perfect sense that she would know how to avoid all prosecutor traps, and find flaws so easily, but still…he still felt as though Franziska had become better than him in these years. It was almost a worrisome thought.

"So…do you think Alicia Foster's actually here?"

He snapped out of his trance and turned back toward Maya. He was happy then, for a moment, to see the expression on her face- she looked almost excited…like she had before he'd lost his badge, before she'd become 'strong' and 'independent' and…cold. He wished she would stay this way- he didn't think he could deal with her being angry with him again. And now that he thought about it, if something were to happen to her- something similar to what had happened to Franziska- he wouldn't be able to deal with it at all. He had been so focused on his own troubles the past three years, he'd nearly forgotten that Maya was too important to lose.

He wondered how Edgeworth was feeling.

"Well, I hope so…otherwise we're just wondering around an old, abandoned building for no reason…"

She looked down. "Actually…I kind of hope she isn't…I mean, she sounds like she'd be really scary. Investigating is fun and all, but…"

He faked a cheerful expression. "Let's just keep walking…hopefully Edgeworth and that officer will find her first."

"We probably should have taken one of their guns, Nick…now that I think about it, we should have taken Mr. Edgeworth's. I mean, if he sees Alicia Foster and starts shooting, he'll get charged for murder. Even if it is justice."

"Yeah…I guess it's going to be bad for everyone if he finds her first." He wiped another oil stain from his face.

"Well, then it's a good thing you two found me first, isn't it…"

He turned back to Maya. "Sorry, what?"

She wasn't looking at him. She was staring past him, into the doorway, straight at…

He spun around. Katrina Erilland. Or, more accurately, Alicia Foster. And a lethal piece of metal.

"Don't move…or I swear I'll kill you. Both of you."

He put his hands up shakily, trying to step in front of Maya.

"I said _don't move!"_

"Please don't shoot…_please…"_

He saw only the anger in her eyes burn brighter, and her finger coming closer and closer to pulling the trigger. She was going to kill them. She was going to kill them the way she'd essentially killed Franziska. She had no conscience. She was going to press down and fire the bullets that would easily take their lives.

And there was nothing and no one to stop her.


	17. No Turning Back

Well, here's Chapter 16. There's one chapter after this and then the epilogue, so...

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters!

* * *

He stood, completely frozen in the center of the darkened room, five feet away from the tiny fragment of metal that might kill him.

"…We're not going to hurt you, Miss Foster…" Maya said shakily. He couldn't manage to turn his head, but instead saw Alicia Foster's fingers move even closer to the trigger.

"That's right…you're not going to hurt me, _you're just going to send me off to jail…"_

"…You killed someone already…it'll be even worse if you kill us too…"

It was a good strategy, actually- pretending that Franziska was dead. It might just get them out of this situation.

"I don't _care! _I already accomplished what I set out to do. Your lives don't matter to me."

She had turned the gun to point at Maya now, and a vague idea surfaced in his mind. If he could just wait until she was distracted enough…

"But now that you've killed someone…aren't you just the same as the reason you want revenge?"

"Quiet! Don't pretend to understand me! It's Franziska von Karma's fault that my sister died! She deserved it!"

In that split-second, time froze. He had found his chance- Alicia Foster was distracted and looking the other way…she wouldn't see him coming.

He charged forward suddenly, shoving the attempted murderer through the door into the next, better-lit room. His plan had been to either knock her unconscious or to take the gun away from her, though he would have preferred to do both. With him in control of the situation, they would be able to call the police and basically save the day.

Unfortunately, both plans failed. Alicia Foster had seen him coming and pushed him out of the way. He landed with a thud in the next room, which was slightly brighter and much less cramped. From his vantage point, he could see two more doors, one directly on the opposite wall, and one on the left side. He could also see that Maya had entered the room, and that Alicia Foster was standing above him, gun aimed at his head.

"I told you _not to move!"_

He put his hands up in surrender and carefully rose to his feet, feeling incredibly stupid. His little hero stunt might have gotten both him and Maya killed.

"I-I'm…sorry…"

"_Don't talk!" _She said, finger only a quarter inch from the trigger. He felt sick. He knew he had to do something that would save them…if he could only find the words that get her to stop aiming the weapon at him…

"_**Put the gun down, Alicia Foster."**_

Exactly. Those words. Only he wasn't the one saying them.

Edgeworth stood on the other side of the room, weapon pointed at Alicia Foster- though his hand was noticeably shaking, and the expression on his face was one of blind rage.

So really, it did not help matters at all- now, instead of simply trying to resolve the issues of a murderer with a gun, they were now forced to resolve the issues of the murderer with a gun while she was under severe pressure. And, at the same time, they had to stop someone who desperately wanted revenge from becoming a murderer. Not only was the situation not any better, it was now much, much worse.

"If you shoot me, I'll kill at least one of your friends on my way down," Alicia Foster said, matter-of-factly.

"The police…they'll be here in a minute…you don't stand a chance. Just put down the gun." It was far too obvious that Edgeworth was lying, but at the very least it was a good attempt.

"And? They'll shoot me, I'll shoot one of them. It doesn't matter- I've already accomplished my original objective."

And then he remembered- she was not yet aware of the fact that Franziska was still alive. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

"Miss Foster…"

"I told you not to _talk!_" She snapped. This was going to be harder than he had hoped.

"You thought that Franziska was responsible for your sister's death, right?" He blurted quickly. There was a flash of anger on Alicia Foster's face, but she did not move to shoot him.

"She _was _responsible."

He decided to take that as a yes, and continued.

"And that's why you killed her?"

He ignored Edgeworth's look of confusion and waited for a response.

"She deserved to die."

"_No!_" the prosecutor interrupted his strategy. "How can you say she was responsible!? Your sister _jumped in front of her!"_

Alicia Foster turned to face Edgeworth, and spoke angrily. "You mean you actually _believed _her!? You _believed _some little story she invented to protect herself!?"

"That was the _truth!_ Didn't you ask your sister!?"

He saw the murderer hesitate. "It doesn't matter! Either way, Franziska von Karma was responsible! She deserved to die!"

He knew that right then, Alicia Foster had crossed the line. Edgeworth was going to shoot her, and then she was going to shoot him or Maya. If he didn't do something quickly, he would be dead.

He needed to say something that could stop the prosecutor from pulling the trigger…but he could think of not a single word, nor a way he could say it so that Edgeworth would actually listen. But if he didn't say something very soon, it would be too late. What could he say?

"_**Don't shoot her just yet."**_

Coming from him, those words would not have helped at all. However…he could not ignore the voice, and he highly doubted Edgeworth could either. In fact, it sounded incredibly familiar…

"_**That wasn't a very nice hello, Mr. Wright…you're the one who disappeared. Not me…"**_

His eyes darted to the other door in a split-second, and sure enough, there she was- grasping onto the doorframe, most likely because she had been stabbed about two hours ago.

It was Franziska…or Kasanov.

He supposed they were one and the same.

_He sat on an uncomfortable, bright blue chair in the lobby of the hospital, waiting for something to happen. Actually, it was difficult to think of many interesting or exciting things that might happen in the near future, since he had not been allowed to accompany the group to Alicia Foster's hideout. Instead, he had to sit in one of the most dull, depressing locations in the city and wait for Mr. Wright's apprentice to wake up. And said apprentice just so happened to be the same person who whipped him every time he did something she didn't like._

_Yes, it was not a great day. In addition to worrisome things that had happened, he had given his standard-issue revolver away to Mr. Edgeworth, who- as he had observed in the past three years- was completely preoccupied with solving absolutely everything about the case, which most likely included killing Alicia Foster. And since he now had a gun with which to commit such an act, it was quite possible that the prosecutor would become a murderer very soon._

_And that would be bad. Then who would get him reinstated the next time he was fired?_

_He was also incredibly confused. First, he'd been called here out-of-the-blue by Mr. Wright, only to hear that Mirabel Kasanov had been nearly killed, and that Mr. Edgeworth was the main suspect. Then, he had heard something completely unbelievable from this supposed suspect- that the one lying in the hospital bed was actually…well, he supposed that maybe, just maybe he had noticed something a little familiar about her in the past, but…it was still surprising to find out that Miss von Karma was alive, and using a different identity. He wondered what that meant. _

_After that, everyone had run off to confront danger and left him practically alone in the hospital. It wasn't fair- why didn't __**he **__get to be a hero of justice too?  
_

_He was so distracted by the clatter of his thoughts that he lost fifteen minutes of time. When his attention returned, it was to the clatter of magazines falling from a table on the other side of the lobby. At first, he thought it was just another visitor that had stumbled onto the table- after all, he did things like that very often- but with a closer look, he realized it was definitely not. In fact, it was the person he was supposed to be waiting for, and she was holding onto the table for balance. It seemed the hospital had given her new clothing that was not drenched in blood. He was glad- the sight of blood made him feel uneasy, despite the fact that he was a detective. With a sigh, he stood and walked across the room, bracing himself for a nonexistent whip._

"_Oh, um…hi?" He tried to laugh away his nervousness, but sounded instead like a choking cat._

"_Why are you here, Detective?" Her voice sounded weak, as though she was fighting for oxygen. He supposed it was only natural, considering she was recovering from almost being killed._

"_Well, er…Mr. Wright called me?"_

"_And where is Mr. Wright?"_

_He looked at the ground. This conversation was not going well._

"_He left. About fifteen minutes ago. With um…Mr. Edgeworth, Miss Fey, and Madeline Duncan person…"_

_She didn't waste a moment. "Where did they go?"_

"_Um…to find Alicia Foster. She's in some old warehouse."_

_He looked up to see her eyes widen greatly._

"_What!?"_

"_Well, they sort of tracked her down and stuff with FBI gear. And now they're going to go arrest her. Or something."_

_He watched as she walked back and forth, as though pacing, except that she was leaning on the table for support. _

"_Are you alright, Miss von Karma?"_

_He saw her cringe at the sound of her name and stop moving. But she gave no verbal response._

"_Miss von Karma?"_

_Still nothing._

"_Miss Kasanov?"_

_She turned around suddenly, almost knocking over the table. He began to get worried._

"_We have to go there. Now." _

"_Huh? Go where?"_

"_To the __**moon.**__ No, to find Alicia Foster, of course."_

"_What? Why?"_

_She gave him a look that was like a very weak glare._

"_Well, to make things __**very **__simple for you, I don't trust them to handle this correctly."_

"_But Miss…um, Kasanov…don't you think you should stay here and recover or something?"_

"_I am perfectly __**fine.**__"_

_He observed that her skin was vampire-pale and that she was still unable to stand without the assistance of a table. And that there were bandages completely covering her hands and a cut on the side of her face. She looked a bit less than perfectly fine._

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes. Now let's __**go. **__I assume you know where this place is?"_

"_Um…yeah…but-"_

_She had already turned and begun shuffling toward the exit, hand bracing against the wall. He decided she could probably not be convinced to stay._

"_Wait! Miss…Kasanov!?"_

_He ran to catch up with her. For someone who had been stabbed so recently, she certainly walked fast._

"_What is it, detective? We don't have time to waste."_

"_Well, um…Mr. Edgeworth told me to tell you something when you woke up…"_

_She paused for a moment._

"_Well? What was it?"_

"_He said that he was sorry."_

_She shot him a look of annoyance and confusion. "Sorry for what?"_

"_I'm…not sure. I thought you would know, sir."_

_She turned back toward the door, making him unable to read her expression._

"_Well, I__** don't **__know. Let's just leave before someone does something they'll regret."_

_There was a long silence during the car ride, periodically broken by the crackle of the police car's GPS telling him to turn left or drive four hundred feet. He was a little worried about what would happen when they got there. Would there be police officers arresting Mr. Edgeworth for murder? Would the entire building be up in flames? Would a guard dog have torn everyone to shreds?_

_In addition, he was briefly concerned about taking an inpatient away from the hospital, especially in her current condition. He was certain the prosecutor would not be pleased with him were Miss Kasanov to suddenly faint or injure herself again. And that seemed a likely possibility. She didn't look very healthy. Actually, Mr. Edgeworth would probably be mad at him just for bringing her here…_

_He stopped the car when the GPS informed him that the destination had been reached, and wondered what a detective was supposed to do in this situation? Wait outside like a stakeout? Go in and investigate? Call for backup?_

"_Alright…Detective."_

_It was strange to know that she was Miss von Karma, and yet did not call him 'Scruffy' or the like. _

"_What do we do now?"_

_She paused, then extended a bandaged hand._

"_Give me your gun."_

"_What!? But __**why,**__ Miss von Karma!?"_

_She glared weakly at him again._

"_Why, Miss Kasanov?"_

"…_You have no common sense."_

_He would have laughed, had she not looked so serious. "Hey! That's exactly what-"_

"_Just give me your gun!" she shouted. Her voice sounded strained, like she had no strength with which to raise the volume._

"_Well, er…I kind of…don't have it."_

"_**What?**__ Where is it??"_

"_...Mr. Edgeworth asked for it, so I sort of…gave it to him."_

"_You __**what??" **__She said, seeming completely horrified._

"_Is that a problem?"_

"_We have to go! Now!"_

_She flung open the door and used the doorframe to pull herself up with some difficulty._

"_But Miss von Karma! You have an injury!"_

_She turned and faced him, with an expression that might have been a glare, but really just looked like desperation._

"_Yes, sir!" He said, exiting the car and getting ready to plunge straight into danger._

"You! You're still alive!?" He watched, unable to move as Alicia Foster spun to the other doorway, appearing even angrier than before.

"Haven't you already hurt me enough, Alicia Foster?"

Though he was relieved that the gun was no longer pointed at him, this almost seemed worse.

"Why won't you just _die!?"_

The phrase might have seemed comical, had it not been coming from a very upset person with a gun.

"…Killing me won't bring your sister back."

Just as she was moments from pulling the trigger, Edgeworth stepped in front of her, still holding the detective's gun. There was a moment of dead standstill.

"Put the gun down."

He stood, staring across the room at them, waiting for the climax. The seconds would have ticked by, had there been a clock. Nothing was happening. No one moved, and no one spoke. All he could see was the expression on the prosecutor's face, which reflected absolutely no emotion, strangely enough.

And in that one moment that he was not staring at Alicia Foster, the inevitable happened. She moved suddenly, and shot three bullets around the room. He closed his eyes, waiting for impact…or at least to hear something else. But there were no sounds. And when he dared to open his eyes again, he saw that the worst had happened.

Alicia Foster now held both guns. There was no longer any room to reason with her.

"Like I said, killing me won't bring your sister back." He would have been surprised that Kasanov did not feel threatened, but considering she'd almost died a few times before from this very same person…she probably had a different concept of fear.

"Don't you _dare _talk about my sister like you're not sorry for what you did! Killing you may not bring her back, but you still deserve to die! Stop lying to yourself!"

"Stop lying to myself about _what?"_

He watched Alicia Foster's face turn an even deeper shade of red, and worried there would be no escape from this situation. That the only ending it could have was a bad one.

"Not only do you deserve to _die,_ Franziska von Karma, you deserve to _suffer _first. So why don't I just do what I've been threatening to do all this time? And when I'm done, I'll give you a little time to run…that is, if you still want to. Then I'll come after you…"

He saw the expression on Kasanov's face change drastically from cold sarcasm to anger.

"Don't you _dare!"_

"Well, it appears you aren't in a position to negotiate after all…I can and _will _do it."

"Why!? How does that help you!?"

He wondered what on earth was going on, and saw that no one else in the room seemed to understand either. It had to be something only they knew about.

"An eye for an eye, Franziska von Karma. It's only fair."

"You'll make the whole world blind."

And then, suddenly, Kasanov lunged forward and knocked one of the guns away, making it skid into the next room. He then saw ,to his horror, that not only had she failed to retrieve the other weapon, but she had also not quite recovered from her injuries and had fallen to the ground with a dull thud.

A horrible chaos ensued- Alicia Foster was shooting wildly with the remaining gun, barely missing Edgeworth and the detective, who seemed to have been standing in the hallway. He stood, frozen, unable to do anything except watch. He couldn't even manage to step a few feet forward and help Kasanov. Perhaps he needed to face the facts- in situations like this, he was completely useless. And now, this would end badly…he could imagine blood spilling onto the concrete floor, bodies being carried away in stretchers…there was no one who could stop these horrible things from happening.

"_**Wait, Alicia…"**_

A stranger's voice. They stood behind Alicia Foster, and he managed to creep a few feet along the wall, until he could see them.

It was Maya. At least, the hair and clothing looked like Maya, and since she was no longer standing behind him, he could only assume it was her. But…her face was completely different. The stranger.

The only explanation was that she was channeling someone. But who? And why?

"Rachel!?"

Alicia Foster spun around, dropping the gun to the floor with a clatter. He saw Edgeworth step forward and snatch it up before it could cause any more damage.

"I told you not to hurt her, Alicia. It wasn't her fault."

He saw a wave of pain cross over the attempted murderer's face.

"But…she…"

"It's not her fault, okay? I know you want someone to blame, but don't blame someone who isn't responsible…"

"Then…I…"

There was a long silence in the room. He saw that Kasanov had managed to stand, and was regarding the scene with vague worry and apprehension. It was the same for the others- no one knew quite what was going to happen next.

"I have nothing…to live for, Rachel."

He saw Maya- or…Rachel- begin to look a bit sympathetic.

"Don't say that…"

"Then what am I supposed to do now!? If I don't…If I can't kill her…then what do I have to live for?"

"Don't-"

"I don't have a life! I've never had one since…since this started…" She turned suddenly to Edgeworth. "You! Give me that gun!"

The prosecutor took a step away, silently refusing to take part.

"Give it to me! I'll end this!"

"Alicia…don't do this…"

"Then what _should _I do!?"

Rachel Foster was at a loss for words. He saw Kasanov holding a hand out to him, motioning for his phone. He numbly took it out and handed it to her, watching as she dialed 911 and spoke softly.

"…yes, that's right…dispatch at least two police cars immediately…"

He watched as Alicia Foster sunk to the ground, shaking, and wondered how everything had gotten so incredibly confusing in these last few days.

The parking lot was full of loud sirens and flashing lights, the key signs that something had happened in this building that required police interference. They had long since arrested Alicia Foster, and were currently being provided with testimony from Madeline Duncan about the other Foster's involvement. They'd managed to get everyone safely from the building, completely unharmed, and other officials had been sent to the first crime scene as well.

He stood on the concrete, staring at the ground. A single streetlight stood above him, giving him a vague shadow.

He knew what he had to do. Everything was over now…the only thing left for him to do was apologize to her…he just needed her to know that he was sorry for everything he hadn't done to protect her…and everything he _had _done to hurt her. She was there, standing in a dark corner by the building- looking down, as he had been a moment ago.

It was now or never. He walked quietly across the lot, heart pounding, until he was standing right in front of her. She didn't look up or even acknowledge him. He felt a horrible sorrow wash over him, and wished, for the millionth time, that none of this had ever happened.

But it had.

"...I'm so sorry…"

He heard her speak quietly, still looking down.

"Sorry for _what?"_

He paused, confused. How did she not understand?

"I should have protected you…" he trailed off, wishing she would look at him.

"Why? You weren't involved. You have absolutely nothing to do with this."

"Franziska…"

Her head snapped up suddenly, and to his surprise, her eyes were full of rage.

"Don't call me that!"

It was the very last thing he'd expected her to say. And really, he would have much preferred her saying she would never forgive him for what he'd done…that she never wanted to speak to him for the rest of her life. Because maybe…he could still try to make things better. But…there was something not quite right about her…

"What's…happened to you?"

"Franziska von Karma is _dead._ She died three years ago. I'm sorry, but it's too late to save her."

He felt pain tear through his heart at the words, and he knew the worst had occurred…an apology would never fix this. But he tried to keep talking…it was difficult.

"No…she isn't. You can change your name and run away…but you're always going to be the person I used to know…you always will be, Franziska…"

"I said stop calling me that!"

"Listen-"

"Why are you trying to help me, anyway!? You don't even _know _me."

He looked down, as though not having to see the way she was looking at him would somehow dull the pain.

"Yes, I do…"

"Whoever you thought you knew is _gone._ I'm not Franziska von Karma, and I never will be!"

"…Why? Is it…because of what I told you three years ago?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Like I said, I'm not her."

He managed to look up, and saw that strangely enough, there seemed to be tears in her eyes. And he'd thought she didn't care at all...

"Please…stop running away, Franziska…"

He reached out then, as though trying to hug her, but she slapped his hand away.

"Don't."

And then, without another word, she turned and disappeared into the darkness as quickly as someone who'd been stabbed possibly could. The sirens blared loudly. The patterns of light spattered against the walls of the building. She was gone.

He didn't bother following her. He knew he would never find Franziska von Karma- only the person she had become.


	18. Expiration Date

Well...after this is the epilogue, and then that's it...

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

* * *

The night passed and the sun rose as though absolutely nothing had happened the previous day. As though he hadn't uncovered dark secrets, solved a mystery or two, and confronted an attempted murderer in a strange location. As though everything would remain as it had always been- he would continue to 'help' his apprentice with another case, all the time completely unaware of whom she really was or why she was hiding. He would keep trying to find out why Edgeworth and Maya were acting so suspiciously, with unhelpful hints from his apparent 'conscience'. If nothing had happened, he would simply wake up annoyingly early in the morning, hunt for food in the not-so-full refrigerator, and attempt to see if he could do anything to help Mirabel Kasanov with one of her cases.

But something _had _happened. Everything had changed. And he had no idea what he was supposed to do about it.

He woke up at seven-thirty anyway, out of force of habit, and managed to find the half-burger he thought he'd dreamed up several days before. It was better that he stuck to routine, that he didn't let his life go into chaos just because he'd been surrounded by chaos. As time went on, some sense of normalness would return. Maybe he could even look into the incident in more detail- perhaps he would find some important clue that would allow him to indict the person _actually _guilty of forging the evidence.

There was a pad of paper on the table, and a poorly-made green pen, and he felt as though he was being fated to write down what had happened the previous day, as he had always done in the past after solving a case. He could put the account with the rest of his progress journals, and then forget about it until…until he got another apprentice.

If he ever did. The last one had turned out a bit, well…considering what she'd gotten him involved with, he didn't think he'd be trying to trust any 'strangers' for a while.

But he decided it was probably best if he at least wrote _something _down, though he couldn't possibly think of what it should be. After all, he'd had such a minor role in the real story that he wasn't sure he could get the details right. He would need Edgeworth or even…Kasanov to help him do that, and since he didn't have either of them, he would have to stick to his probably flawed version.

So he wrote. He wrote down everything that he could remember from the past two weeks, every hint he'd missed, every little detail he should have paid more attention to. And of course, he wrote down the parts that he still didn't understand. The remaining mysteries.

What Alicia Foster had said to Kasanov- the way she'd hinted around something but never quite given it away.

_**If you do not show, you know exactly what will happen, Franziska von Karma.**_

It was something only the two of them knew, something he would probably never find out unless he could ask her. And he didn't even know where she was or if she would ever come back.

He had stopped writing by then, and heard, curiously enough, the sound of pen writing on paper. Still. Long after he'd closed the story and put down his own pen. The noise was there, very quietly in the background. He stood abruptly, turned, and walked into the office. He was probably only imagining things, but he needed to put his account into the shelves anyway, so it was only natural to-

What?

What had he just been saying? That he didn't know where Kasanov was? That he might not ever see her again, now that her secret had been revealed? And yet, when he looked up, he saw the strangest thing.

What was she doing here? Why was she sitting at the desk, writing, as though everything was completely normal?

"Um…hello?"

She didn't even look up- just continued writing as though nothing had happened. He worried he was having another disturbing dream.

"Miss…Kasanov?" Was he supposed to call her Franziska? That almost seemed strange, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"_What?" _she said, still writing.

"Oh, well…I just thought you wouldn't be coming in today…"

"And why is that?"

He decided to avoid communicating the fact that he didn't think she'd be showing up due to the fact that she was actually a prosecutor who wanted nothing more than to beat him to a pulp.

"Well, you were stabbed just yesterday, so…" he glanced at the bandages that covered her hands, and wondered how anyone could have recovered quickly enough to start writing the next day.

"My injuries weren't that severe. And I had things to accomplish."

"Like what?" he couldn't imagine what might take precedence over recovering from being stabbed.

"Writing my testimony. Court is tomorrow, after all. I can't exactly come unprepared."

His expression changed to one of confusion. "Court?"

"Alicia Foster's trial. On charges of attempted murder and assault."

Oh. He'd almost forgotten about that.

"So…about what happened yesterday…"

"What aboutit?"

He looked down, getting the nagging feeling that he wasn't supposed to be bringing this up.

"Well…aren't you actually…" he trailed off.

"Aren't I actually _what_?"

"Um…aren't you really Franziska von Karma?"

She didn't even look up. "No."

"You're…not?"

"No. I'm not."

He decided to say nothing further about it- at least directly. But he could probably ask some questions discreetly.

"So…why did you decide to become a defense attorney?"

"I believe I've already told you that, Mr. Wright."

Had she? He paused for a moment, trying to think back days and days and days, until he finally remembered something. He _had _asked her, and she _had _told him.

"_What made you decide to be an attorney?" _

"_When it isn't your fault…but no one will listen."_

"_And…?"_

"_I hate that."_

What had she meant by that? It must have had _some _meaning, but what? Although…he remembered vague pieces of conversation from the previous day- perhaps that was it.

"_**No! **__How can you say she was responsible!? Your sister jumped in front of her!"_

"_You mean you actually __**believed**__ her!? You __**believed**__ some little story she invented to protect herself!?"_

"_That was the __**truth!**__ Didn't you ask your sister!?"_

"_It doesn't matter! Either way, Franziska von Karma was responsible! She deserved to die!"_

Was that it? He supposed it must have been- she had been referring to Alicia Foster when she had said that. But…perhaps there were other reasons as well.

"_**I wanted to see who you really were. And especially…why you lost your badge." **_

He realized then that her other objectives might have been to keep watch on the people from her past- perhaps even to settle scores with them. After all, she _had _beaten Gavin and Edgeworth, which she could not have done if she were a prosecutor. And of course, _had _she been a prosecutor, it might have been extremely obvious who she really was, and her plan would not have worked.

So at least she had a motive for everything. But even so…if everything had been resolved, why was she not returning to her old life? Why was she insisting that she _wasn't _Franziska?

There was a loud knock on the door, and he shuddered. Who could possibly be there?

"Oh hi, Mr. Wright! I just dropped by to make sure everything was okay! I mean, that was pretty scary yester-" the detective stopped abruptly. "Miss…Kasanov?"

"What is it, Detective? Come to give an apology for giving your gun away to a person who wasn't thinking straight?"

"Um…well, I just wasn't expecting you here, sir."

She stood, collecting her papers. "Well, I won't be here for much longer. I have to meet with the prosecutor to discuss tomorrow's strategy…I should come back in a few hours."

"The…prosecutor?" he asked, wondering if it was who he thought it was.

"Yes. Your _best friend_, Mr. Gavin."

The door closed loudly as she left, and Trucy came wondering into the room. He'd sent Pearl home with Maya very late the previous night, after apologizing profusely for leaving them unsupervised as they'd ran all over town.

"Huh? Was Miss Kasanov there, Daddy?"

He nodded, then turned back to Detective Gumshoe.

"So, um…what's going on?"

"That's what I came here to find out, pal. Something really strange has happened to Miss von Karma…"

He wondered what the detective's concept of 'really strange' was, but spoke anyway. "Yeah, I know. When I asked if she was Franziska, she kept saying she wasn't. I don't get it."

Detective Gumshoe looked down. "…I thought Mr. Edgeworth would be happy about her coming back, but he looked really depressed when I came by with a report…do you think Miss von Karma said something to him?"

"Who's Miss von Karma, Daddy?" Trucy asked, looking at him quizzically. He remembered that she had absolutely no idea of anything that had happened yesterday, and that she hadn't even met Franziska before.

"Don't worry about it, Trucy. Did you find something to eat?"

"Yep! I found some French fries in the refrigerator! We didn't have any ketchup, though…"

"I think we have some mayonnaise…but it might be expired…"

"That's okay! I actually found some maple syrup!" she turned and skipped out of the room, leaving them to discuss more serious matters than the appropriate topping for fried potatoes.

"So…you think Miss von Karma said something to Mr. Edgeworth, pal?"

He nodded. "Yeah, probably. I wonder what it was…"

It was a little strange not having an assistant.

Of course, she still remembered where the original documents were kept, and that the code for the copying machine was one two three four, but she kept expecting someone to walk in and inform her that the latest tour had arrived, or that one of the young trainees had slipped under a waterfall and broken their ankle. It wasn't really that she _needed _an assistant, or that she really wanted to have Katrina Erilland within five hundred feet of her, but she'd gotten used to not having to deal with absolutely everything all by herself. Because despite what had happened yesterday, Kurain Village still remained functioning normally. And she had to function normally with it.

That was difficult. She was a bit tired from running around the city, confronting criminals, and giving detailed information to the police. Luckily, she hadn't been called in to testify for the court, so she had time to figure things out a bit. While scanning the beige documents with a little red circle in the top left corner.

Basically, she just needed to make sure everything was alright with everyone- that no serious damage had occurred. She wasn't too worried about Nick- he had been a bit shaken up after the incident, but nothing severe. She would probably stop by later, anyway though…just to ask what was going to happen next.

She was a bit more concerned for Mr. Edgeworth. Before she'd left the parking lot of the abandoned building, she'd seen him having some sort of conversation with Mirabel Kasanov- or, in actuality, Franziska von Karma- and it hadn't looked as though it had been going well. In fact, she'd seen Franziska _run away_, strangely enough. But why? Whatever the reason, she decided it would be good to at least call the prosecutor, to find out what was going on.

"…yes?" he was speaking much too quietly- she could barely hear him.

"Mr. Edgeworth? Oh, I was just calling to make sure everything was okay."

There was a long silence.

"Hello?" she said, wondering if he had hung up. That would have been a bad sign.

"…yes?"

"So…is everything okay? Did you talk to Miss von Karma?" She already knew the answer, but decided to avoid bringing up what she'd seen.

"No."

"You…didn't?"

"No…" he paused, "Franziska is…gone…"

"Gone? What do you mean?"

"…I suppose this is what I get…" the prosecutor trailed off, as though he was speaking to himself instead of her.

"Huh? What do mean she's 'gone'?? Isn't she Mirabel Kasanov?"

"…No. She's…a different person now. I can't do anything to change that."

"What!?"

"And neither can you. Goodbye, Miss Fey."

There was a click, and the conversation ended. Abruptly. Leaving her incredibly confused as to what was going on, and only certain of one fact. Franziska must have told him something- more specifically, she must have told him that she wasn't going to return to her former identity…that who she had been before was completely 'gone', and would never return. And that no one could possibly change that.

There was no way. She was going to go have a _talk_ with this so-called 'Mirabel Kasanov'.

"Oh! Maya!" She couldn't tell if Nick was surprised, or just happy to see her. She supposed it didn't matter- she just needed to do this before she changed her mind.

"Hi…is Miss Kasanov here? I need to talk to her."

"Well…not right now, but she should be back pretty soon. You can come in and wait…"

She nodded, and followed him inside to the kitchen. On second thought, it probably wouldn't be _too _bad to wait a bit- to formulate what she was going to say…and to talk to Nick. Maybe he would know what was going on.

"Hi, Miss Maya!" Trucy ran to greet her, wearing one gigantic red oven mitt. She recognized it as something from Kurain Village. "I found a bunch of flour and stuff, so I made cookies!"

She sat at the table, across from Nick, as Trucy carried out a giant tray filled with cookies of various sizes and strange shapes. She felt suddenly nostalgic.

"So…" the former attorney began, "What did you need to talk to Franziska about?"

She looked down at the table. "Um…the fact that she's still acting like she's _not _Franziska."

"Yeah, I noticed…are you going to do something about it?"

"Yes. Because…when I talked to Mr. Edgeworth, he sounded really upset. He kept saying that she was gone or something…"

"That sounds like him."

She tried to pick up a cookie, but Trucy quickly ran over.

"Wait! You need something to dip it in!"

"Oh…like milk?"

"We don't have any milk! But…we have maple syrup! And mayonnaise!" the eleven-year old exclaimed, beaming.

She smiled. "Well, I'll take maple syrup, then."

Trucy ran to get her a glass of the 'dip', and she turned back to Nick.

"So…what do you think you'll do now?"

"I don't really know. It's going to be kind of strange if Franziska keeps working here, but…things are already pretty strange, aren't they?"

She nodded and plunked a cookie into her newly acquired glass of syrup. Trucy nodded in approval.

"Maybe I'll start looking for the real evidence-forger…"

Her head snapped up. "Really!?"

"Well, I mean, I have my suspicions, but…I'd need real proof. Maybe I could get some help finding it."

She smiled again, relived that the strange occurrences of the past few weeks had brought on such a change.

"That sounds like a good plan, Nick. Count me in. And hey, maybe you can get a new apprentice while you do it…"

"Oh, you mean someone who I don't _already know_?" he said, laughing.

Then there was the sound of a key turning in the door. Her happy moment was over. Time for business.

"I guess that's her…feel free to go talk…"

She nodded, then stood and walked to the door in the other room. There she was- eyes completely blank of any feelings, not looking a bit sorry for what she'd done. Of course, it had always been difficult to read her emotions- even before any of this had happened.

"Excuse me, Miss Kasanov? I need to talk to you for a minute. Let's go outside."

There was a long silence as they stood in the parking lot, under ominous clouds. She still wasn't entirely sure of what to say, but…she needed to do _something, _at least. She needed to make _some _sort of an impression.

Franziska had to care- no one could simply block out all knowledge of the past and pretend they'd become a different person.

"Is there some reason you needed to speak with me?"

She decided to start more carefully- she couldn't just start yelling and expect anything to come of it.

"You know, you're a lot better as a defense attorney than a prosecutor. You should have switched years ago."

Franziska glared at her sharply.

"No, really. And you do a good job pretending to be someone else…you should become a spy."

"I am _not _pretending to be someone else."  
She sighed loudly, in the hopes that it would somehow facilitate her role. "Yeah, that's exactly what I thought you'd say…but it's not true."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're Franziska von Karma. You can't expect everyone to just ignore that fact."

She looked for a sign that her message was being received, but saw no understanding at all in the attorney's eyes.

"Franziska von Karma is _dead._"

This must have been what Mr. Edgeworth had been talking about- that Franziska truly was not acknowledging her formal self at all. This was going to be a bit more difficult than she'd hoped.

"No, she's not."

"Yes, she is. She died three years ago. I am not-"

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to Mr. Edgeworth!?" She had told herself before that she wouldn't become upset, but…this was a very frustrating conversation. And perhaps this would have an effect.

But the person she was talking to simply looked down and remained silent for a few moments.

"…Just what do you mean by that, Ms. Fey?"

It was taking quite a lot of effort to keep talking instead of just stomping away.

"You know exactly what I mean! He's thought you were dead for the past three years…and as soon as you come back you go and pretend to be someone else!"

"Like I _said, _Franziska von Karma is dead. I don't understand why he would have any sort of attachment to her. Or to me."

"That's not the point!" she exclaimed, hoping there was no one in the near vicinity to hear this conversation. It was bad enough having to listen to it herself.

"Then what _is _the point?"

"The point is that he _does._ And it's…not fair to tell him the person he's been searching for the past three years is dead, when she's obviously alive!"

She noticed Franziska's expression suddenly turn to one of anger.

"Don't even pretend to understand this situation. You're not involved."

She cringed and tried to ignore the fact that she was not actually involved.

"Look, I don't know if something happened between you two before you disappeared, but trying to say the old you is 'dead' and not acknowledging anything…that's like being a coward! You can't even face your own mistakes!"

"You don't understand _anything, _Ms. Fey."

She looked down and forced herself to keep talking. "No…I understand everything. You're afraid, aren't you?"

"Afraid of what, exactly?"

"You're afraid to go back to your previous life…and you're afraid to talk to the only person who really cares about you…"

"This is none of your business!"

It was the first real reaction she'd gotten, and probably a step in the right direction…if only she could keep talking.

"You're right. It isn't any of my business."

She received a look of angered confusion and a brief silence.

"Just know that you've killed him, Franziska. And he's not going to get over it."

She turned and walked to her car, leaving a mess of problems that weren't hers to be dealt with.

Her mind raced- it was unusual for her to become so angry at a person, angry enough to really yell at them…but it had been such a horrible situation. If she hadn't done something about it, everything would have fallen into further chaos, and would have most likely been impossible to solve, impossible to make better in any way. In fact, everything would have turned to ashes and blown away, as though it had never been there at all.

So she had done something. She had tried to change someone's mind- perhaps it had worked, perhaps it hadn't.

But glancing back and seeing Franziska's expression, she got the feeling it had.


	19. Epilogue

Well...here it is. The epilogue. Um...well, first of all, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story (especially those who continued to give commentary...you know who you are! thank you!)

And...as for my future fanfictions, I've been wanting to rewrite a fanfic I have on another site. I'll probably start posting sometime in the fall, though probably not as often because I will be (*gasp*) starting _high _school next year. XD.

And yes, I have thought about writing a sequel to this, so I may do that sometime in the future as well. If you think I should, review telling me so.

Anyway, thanks again for reading this far, and here is the very last chapter.

* * *

_History repeats itself._

He'd never believed that phrase before. After all, most situations were so specific, so precise in their creation that there was no way of _re_creating them. There was no way for every little piece of such a situation to fit together again, to produce the same picture it had before. In fact, the chance of the _exact_ same conditions aligning to produce the _exact_ same results was miniscule, if not completely nonexistent. So the same event should never occur twice.

And yet, here he was now- staring at the tiny screen of a tracking device, trying to find the blinking red dot which just so happened to be Franziska von Karma. Here he was, pushing past the immense crowds of people at the very same airport, holding the exact same thing he'd been holding the last time- a whip.

If that wasn't history repeating itself, nothing was.

What he still did not quite understand was how he had ended up in this situation in the first place. After all, Franziska had actually _called _him here this time, so there was no way it could be simply amounted to a lucky coincidence. She must have wanted to speak with him- about what, he couldn't begin to imagine. It had only been three days since their conversation...or more accurately, their argument. Only three days since she had told him very specifically that her former self was completely gone, and nothing he could do would possibly bring it back.

But strangely enough, here he was now. It was almost as if…she'd changed her mind. That couldn't be right…it was very unlike Franziska to change her mind once she had become sure of something- he knew that much.

Of course…according to her, she wasn't Franziska anymore…

It took him a little while to find her. Sure, he had a tracking device with a little red dot that would faithfully blink and play music until he could look with his eyes, and it usually wasn't _that _much of a challenge to find someone, especially not her. But as he'd realized soon enough, it was difficult to find her because he wasn't looking correctly. He was still waiting, in the back of his mind, to see someone that looked familiar to him- the person he'd always known.

Very simply, he was still looking for someone with ice blue hair. And he highly doubted he was going to find anyone fitting that description.

So, it was with a twinge of sadness that he finally found 'Mirabel Kasanov', leaning motionlessly against the wall. Her expression was unreadable, and her head was tilted downward, making him unable to see her eyes. He didn't mind as much- her eyes were the wrong color anyway, and he didn't need any more reminders of how much she'd changed.

She didn't look up when he arrived, but seemed to semiconsciously acknowledge his presence.

"…You came."

"Of course."

There was a long silence, and he took a moment to observe the situation. She looked very tired, though he supposed it was only natural- she'd spent the day before testifying for the court as to Alicia Foster's involvement. To his relief, the trial had ended in a guilty verdict, and she was no longer in danger. Of course, that didn't change the fact that there were a great number of emotional scars that had come out of this, not to mention the physical pain she must have been experiencing at this moment. She was injured- yet another similarity to the time four years before…

"You didn't have to come, you know…we're still practically strangers, and I understand if you would like to treat me as one."

He looked down. "No. I'm sorry, but I had to come. I know…that you may wish to consider me a stranger, but I cannot ignore the truth."

When he looked back up, he found himself staring into her contact-obscured eyes.

"So we are going to be civil about this, then?"

"Yes. This is your decision. I wish I could change your mind, but I…" he couldn't manage to finish. He couldn't even manage to think a coherent thought.

"You what?"

"…I know I can't."

She glanced away, as though it were painful to continue looking at him. Try as he might, he could not even begin to imagine what she might be thinking. She still seemed to be conveying that she was no longer Franziska, but…why had she called him here? If they really were strangers, what could she possibly need to talk to him about?

"Then…why did you come?" she asked, quietly. Perhaps she was afraid of his answer.

Why had he come? He supposed if he really thought about it logically…she was usually in trouble when she called him. And of course, he couldn't ignore that. But…there was another reason as well- a more _il_logical one.

"I…don't quite know. I think I was expecting a chance to speak to Franziska von Karma, but I suppose I shouldn't have hoped for something that isn't likely to happen."

He braced himself, expecting her to become upset with him again. But her voice remained at a normal tone. All the same, this conversation was killing him. How was he supposed to talk to her like she was Mirabel Kasanov if he now knew that she was Franziska? How could he accept the fact that she had become a new person, that she'd started over now and didn't want anything to do with him?

"…Why do you need to speak to her?"

He looked down. "I've…made some mistakes, and I haven't gotten the chance to apologize yet…"

"Well…I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore, but…are you certain what you say you did was a mistake? I don't think you could be so sure of that unless you've actually spoken to her…"

What did she mean by that? It was as though they were both talking in code- trying to convey very subtle messages while speaking of someone in the third person. He didn't like it at all. Their conversation at the airport four years ago seemed dreadfully simple compared to this.

"…I cannot say for certain what she thinks, but I know that I consider what I've done to be a mistake, and I would like to apologize for it."

"I see…" she paused for a moment, "Let's not speak of the dead anymore. We have more important things to discuss, wouldn't you agree?"

He nodded in vague agreement, though unsure of what she was referring to. She looked at the floor, as though embarrassed and needing to avoid his gaze.

"…I suppose you're wondering why I called you here."

"Yes," he said simply, relieved that he was actually going to be given a reason.

"I was…unhappy with the results of our last conversation. I believe that some clarification is required."

He paused, heart skipping a beat in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"…You…understand that I am a different person than to who you were looking for, correct?"

He felt disappointment come over him- even though he knew it was silly to hope, he had been wishing that she'd changed her mind suddenly.

"I think so. But…what I do not understand is _why. _What…happened to you?"

He half-expected her to become angry, but she only looked down again.

"…I realized that there were problems I'd created that I needed to resolve."

Was this a sign of progress or not? Perhaps he had cut through her elaborate façade of speaking in third person, but did he really want to know why she had changed?

Of course, he already knew- or at least, had a good concept of it. As much as he wanted to forget…he could not.

"Problems?"

"Yes…I began to dislike the person I had become. And I needed to fix that. So I…tried to change myself."

He spent a moment remembering exactly what she'd told him four years before, at this same place.

"…_**I can't change who I am. I can't throw away everything I've been until today."**_

She had told him that, but now…she had changed. And…she had most definitely thrown away everything she had been before.

"Are you…sure this is the simplest way to resolve these 'problems'?"

She looked up then, staring straight into his eyes.

"It is the only way."

"I see."

"…I thought that you would be happy…" she said, trailing off, "The person you disapproved of is gone now, isn't she?"

That was right- she had changed, she had made her old self disappear…

…Just like he had wanted her to.

"…As I said before, I've made some mistakes in regard to that person. I…believe I might have communicated what I wanted to say in a way that could be misunderstood. Is there…anything I can do to clarify?"

There was a long silence, and she looked back down.

"I…I don't…think so. All I can advise is that in the future…you be careful what you wish for. Do I make myself clear?"

"…Crystal."

He realized then that the horrible pain he had been feeling…was simply regret. He doubted it was something he could get over- not unless he could find some way to solve this.

But there wasn't going to be a way. He was too late. He was always going to be too late.

"If you don't mind me asking…where are you going now?" he couldn't look at her at all now, and stared at the floor, almost wishing it would open up and swallow him, make him disappear from this horrible conversation.

"…Away for a while…maybe a few months or so. I think…I've caused some trouble by coming here. I'm going away until it clears up."

Only a few months? That was odd.

"…So you'll be coming back?" he asked, manage to glance up a little bit.

"Yes. Could you…tell that to Mr. Wright, as well?"

He nodded, and wondered if she planned to come back and continue being a defense attorney. It would be difficult for him to face her in court again, knowing what he knew now. Almost impossible, really.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, as though unable to construct a sentence or even a thought. He was torn between staying- trying desperately to continue the conversation, to somehow convince her to come back- or simply walking away without another word. He settled on the second option. What was the point, anyway? She was never going to listen to him. Franziska von Karma really had died, and no matter how much he might wish things would change, they weren't going to. He had lost all hope of things returning to normal.

And of course, he knew he deserved this. He had killed her. Even if she pretended that she had no idea what he was talking about, this all came down to the fact that she wouldn't accept his apology. Not that he'd expected her too. He was just going to have to live without hope.

But then she spoke.

"…There was…another reason I called you here…" Her voice was quiet, and she sounded almost…nervous. He wondered what could have caused the sudden change.

"What is it…?"

In only a few seconds, Franziska looked straight up at him and grabbed his hand. It had been the hand holding her whip, and she was taking it from him. He felt his regret be quickly replaced by confusion.

"…Stop feeling guilty."

He was too surprised to answer, so she continued to speak, glaring. The moment was made significantly stranger by the fact that she was still holding on to his hand.

"I mean it. Stop saying that you've made some horrible mistake that you need to 'apologize' for."

"I-"

"Do you really think that you were the only thing that caused this! You don't think that it was _my _decision as well!"

"...I believe that if I'd had the opposite influence-"

"I changed because I needed to! Even if…even if you _were _the trigger, I still made this decision by myself! Nothing you could have done would have stopped me!"

"I-"

"Stop…stop feeling guilty about helping someone…"

She released his hand and looked at the ground. He remained standing there, stunned into silence. Why had she done that? And what did she mean by 'helping someone'?

"I…have to leave now…" she said suddenly. "And…when I come back, we're going to meet again. As acquaintances. I'm simply another defense attorney you face in court from time to time."

"I...understand…"

She looked back into his eyes.

"…And when that happens…you had better be ready."

She disappeared into the crowd without another word, leaving him entirely alone and extremely confused. It seemed as though she had actually acknowledged her formal self, but…at the same time, she had only been confirming his fears that he had been a cause, and that it was too late to stop this effect.

But then…she'd also said that he was not the only cause. That she had decided to change because she had felt something was wrong with her previous personality. But to change on such a scale...

He was certain that if he had done something, he could have stopped her. No matter what she said, there had been an opportunity to have saved Franziska, and he had not taken it.

Stranger still though, was the fact that she had taken the whip from him when she'd grabbed his hand. Just like the previous time, he'd brought it for her and she'd taken it with her- though it had a very different meaning now. He couldn't help but wonder if it meant she was keeping a part of her former self with her- as though the whip was the metaphorical representation of Franziska von Karma, and by taking it, she was showing that she might reclaim her past life. Or perhaps it was silly to hope.

Either way, there was yet another odd thing about their conversation that demanded his attention, and it was the folded piece of paper he now seemed to be holding. He was absolutely certain he hadn't had it before, and considering it was in the hand he'd been holding the whip with, he could only assume Franziska had given it to him. It must have been significant enough to have to give him, but possibly have too strange a meaning to try to explain.

So what could that be? What would fit that description?

He unfolded the paper and allowed the words to sink into his head.

_**You will come to Crystal Lake tomorrow at 8PM. If you do not show, I will kill Miles Edgeworth. This is not an empty threat.**_

_**-Alicia Foster**_

What?

What was this supposed to be?

His first thought was that Franziska had a dark, twisted sense of humor, and she was giving him some fake letter just to make him feel worse. But, as he noticed soon after, it was definitely not her handwriting, and the paper and ink seemed to be slightly aged, as though the words had been written a while before. He took a bit more time to dissect the meaning, and realized that if the location was Crystal Lake and the time was 8PM, this note had to be how Alicia Foster had threatened Franziska three years before.

Which meant that she'd been threatened with _his _life. Alicia Foster had threatened to kill _him_, and Franziska had gone to the lake in order to prevent this from happening.

But what did that mean? What was she trying to tell him? He already knew that he had killed her, but did this mean that she had also died because of him? He supposed that it must. And strangely enough, knowing this made him feel slightly better, though not so much as to make a noticeable difference. It just meant that Franziska hadn't been angry with him after their argument. That she might have actually cared whether he lived or died.

He couldn't ignore this- he needed to ask her about it, to question as to why she would put herself in a dangerous position to practically save the life of someone who she had believed disliked her. He would have to find some way to ask her…

"…_**And when that happens…you had better be ready."**_

He decided in that moment that he would be able to ask her, that he would be able to get some sort of story of the past three years. That there might be just be a small chance, that there might be a thin little sliver of hope that there was something he could do…to save Franziska von Karma.

Because she would come back.

_**Eventually…**_


End file.
